


Not All That is Gold

by BairnSidhe



Series: Wanderers [3]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Eru has had enough of Aule's shit for one millennium, F/M, GDIME, Gen, Malls are magical places when you're from Arda, Meddling in the timey-wimey stuff, Nori plays the socio-political game, Outing a bad guy, Sequel, Shameless Smut, ceremonial stuff, cliffhanger ending!, handwavey police thing, over-use of folk songs, reverse GDIME
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:44:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 52,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BairnSidhe/pseuds/BairnSidhe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when Chris was thinking she'd get used to living in Middle Earth, that stupid light showed up again, whisking her back to New Zealand.  At least it also brought her fiance and two friends with her.</p><p>Meanwhile, back in Erebor, Dwalin chases a killer with single minded intensity.</p><p>And that's just the beginning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to All Those Who Wander. Nothing will make sense without having read that one.
> 
>  
> 
> Many thanks to quadrad for beta-ing this first bit.

It’d been a month and a half since the battle that sealed Chris’s fate.  A month and a half of lessons in court protocol and Dwarven Law and Custom (yes, all three of those words were capitalized, she could just tell by the way Balin said them).  A month and a half of dinners at the high table wearing clothes that Lady Dis picked out feeling like some form of exotic animal at the zoo.  It was driving her batty and the only thing that kept her moderately sane was that she still got to practice in the salle with Kili and Dwalin.  They were getting good at her martial arts, and they said the same of her skill with sword and knife.  Fili even joined them occasionally.  Although, as she had complained to Roda, she got the impression that the people who supported her were in favor of the continued practice because Dwarves as a culture value martial prowess and perhaps they were seeing a variation on Xena: Warrior Princess (this led to a series of awkward questions), but the ones who didn’t support her were thinking “how cute, the human wants to be a fighter”.

She was up to her elbows in parchment scraps with notes on guild hierarchy and the proper courtesies when hosting high feast days when Bofur tucked his head around the corner of the door way into her study.  The study that Balin insisted she needed and she didn’t believe him. (“Just put a desk in my room, you made me move to a bigger one anyhow”, she had said.  Now she regretted it, drowning in paper too thick to be called paper.)

“You can come in, Bofur.  I need a break anyways.”  Chris cleared off the second chair in the room, a big armchair that was comfortable when it wasn’t being used as a table.  “What’s up?”  Ordinarily she tried to sound as much like a native Ereboran as possible, but Bofur had quickly made friends with her and said he rather liked her unique way of speaking, so around him her tight control relaxed.

“Just thought I’d stop by and see how you fare with all this.”  He gestured at the study.  “I worry, you know.  Most of the Company members don’t understand it; they’d always been of the line of Durin, however far removed.  For them it was a return to what they’d had before.  Bom and Bifur and I, we were just Ered Luin Broadbeams, miners and toymakers.  Then, after the Quest, we were lorded; suddenly we were important in ways we’d not dreamed of.  You’ve been served that same bitter soup, getting something everybody else wants and not knowin’ what to do with it.”

“I’m engaged to _Kili_ , Bofur, that’s hardly a bitter soup.  Sure the bowing is unnerving, and I always feel like someone’s just said something mean about me when I enter a room, but I get to marry a great guy who loves me and that’s nothing to sniff at.”

“You’ve got a stout heart, lass.  I fear for you, but you’ll handle it all with grace and dignity, like always.”  He rose to leave.

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?  Bofur, what’s the matter?  Why are you afraid?”

“Rumblin’s; rumor and speculation.  Not even Nori can track it down, but there seems to be a hint that someone’s out to stop the wedding, so as to keep you from bein’ a princess.  We’re doin’ what we can, but I’m not the best person to be pokin’ about.  I’m what you’d call _noticeable_.”

“Thanks for the warning, Bofur.  I’m sure we’ll be fine, though.  Captain Lofar told me his boys are holding the line among the other soldiers, Roda and Ori have the ear of just about all the merchants and craftsmen, and Balin is supporting me among the council members.  I have good friends.  You’re one of them.  Between us all, I’m sure my wedding will go off without a hitch.”

“I hope you’re right darlin’.  You’re a strong one, make no mistake.  Now for somethin’ a bit cheerier.  Bom’s second youngest son just lost his first tooth!  O’ course the fact he was engaged in a tussle at the time and took an elbow to the face may have had somethin’ to do with it, but Lythur is pleased nonetheless.”  He continued to regale her with the story of how his nephew lost a tooth, complete with hand gestures, until she laughed so hard tears leaked out her eyes.  After he saw she wasn’t about to faint at the prospect of someone stopping the wedding, he said goodbye and continued on his ever merry way.

Of course, she _was_ freaked out.  With her history, she knew very well what kind of viper’s nest government could be, and then you add in the _species_ difference, and the fact that she was friendly with Elves, and she was sure half the people who heard the story of the light shining out of the two lovers rolled their eyes and said “Oh please, pull the other one”, and of course there’s going to be tension.  And with some people, tension equals violence.  But there was very little she could do about it, and she knew that Nori was on the case, and that her friends were trying to win hearts and minds.  Whatever happened, there wasn’t much she could do to stop it, all she could do was let those who could do their jobs.

An hour and a half later according to the fancy desk clock that Balin had made sure she got, and she privately thought looked a little like Cogsworth, she happily put down the book on inheritance rights and slipped into the adjoining powder room to change into practice clothes.  Thorin had finally given in to Kili’s demand that Chris get paid a wage for teaching (mostly because she was getting married to his nephew and was sort of family in that regard), and one of the first things she’d ordered was a proper gi.  It had taken a long time of talking with the tailor about what was wanted, and several not-very-good sketches to make her point, but in the end, she got a gi that would pass muster.

As Chris exited the study, her shadow (a guard by the name of Lona) stepped out and followed her.  After several weeks Chris had grown accustomed to her, and no longer tried to discourage her from following her about the mountain.  Chris was, like it or not, a target for a fair number of people.  Dwarves, for all the things that she found admirable about them, were by and large a xenophobic folk.  Not everyone was as accepting of her as the Royal family, even less so now that she was here to stay.  Lona and Chris trotted through the halls until we reached the practice salle, where she found a bit of wall to hold up as Chris taught her class.  About a week or so after the return from Mirkwood, Dwalin had asked her to teach a class for some of his more elite guards.  Once a week she taught hand to hand to them and on the other days she learned a variety of weapons forms and tutored Dwalin and Kili.  Today was a teaching day.

“Alright, form up!”  The class fell in and stood straight.  They’d learned their teacher took this seriously.  “I’m going to be charitable and assume you’ve all warmed up.  Let’s review what we learned last time shall we?”  She had them all run striking drills, punching the air while she wandered among them correcting problems.  “Katla, I want to see your hips move!  Put your body into it!  Valdi, keep your off hand up!  I _will_ smack you the next time I see it drop!  Egin, twist your wrists as you strike!”  She was pulling teaching techniques from her first teacher, Asano Sensei, as her only knowledge of how to teach was copying what her teachers had done.  It made her tongue sharper than usual, but it got the job done, and nobody complained.  Given what she once saw come out of Dwalin after dropping in on his training sessions, she was probably the nice one.  When they were throwing punches reliably, not too long, she paired them up with striking boards (she had tried to convince Dwalin to have bags made, but he insisted that the boards were what they used when learning their own hand to hand forms).  Once everybody had a partner and a shield-like wooden board, they practiced the strikes with something to hit.  The sound of fists striking wood filled the salle for another half hour, before they switched to judo. 

The incident with Dwalin that instigated her teaching had quickly become legend and all the students wanted to be capable of tossing their hard-ass captain into the dirt.  As far as Chris was concerned, they were welcome to try, but Dwalin had gotten really good at counter-sweeps and anybody foolish enough to attempt it was likely to go flying themselves.  Still, the hope kept them focused.  After judo, Chris demonstrated another thing that had become legend; nerve pinches.  They were trickier than punches or sweeps, so she saved them for last and went slower with them.  So far her students had only learned the one Lovett Sensei had called the lapel twist, because it started with your opponent grabbing your lapel.  It’s easiest for beginners because the hand is consistently in the same place at the start of the movement, right by the body, no need to stretch to grab it. She decided to pick on Katla and Gylvi.  Gylvi was good at the faster pace stuff, but precision wasn’t his strong suit, so the anatomy-heavy nerve pinches were hard for him.

“No, you’re going to want to keep your thumbs on either side of her middle finger.  Feel for the bone in the hand, yes, like that.  Get your thumbs anchored; now bend the wrist.  Good!  Katla, tell him when you start to feel it as he pushes your arm back towards you.”

“I feel it, but I could take more than that.”

“Katla, you once punched the Dwarf who dislocated your elbow.  With the hand that elbow was attached to.  He could probably break your wrist and you’d keep going.  Just tell him when it would get difficult to maneuver with your arm locked.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She moved to another pair as it became clear that Katla would stay stoic as long as her teacher was watching her.  Sure enough, moments after Chris started repositioning Egin’s fingers she heard her stop Gylvi.  She smiled to myself at Katla’s attempt to impress her.  One of the only women in the class, she had a bit of what Chris’s French practice-mates had called a Sensei-crush, a variant on hero worship.  Chris wrapped up the class and said goodbye to her students before heading back to her studies.  She liked being useful, and lately teaching was the only time she felt useful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me here: bairnsidhe.tumblr.com 
> 
>  
> 
> EDIT: So sorry, forgot teaser, here you go:  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> “I never intended that. I intended to lie. I have a story written down somewhere…”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kili works at the forge, then checks in with Erebor's Spymaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had thought I was only going to post once a week, but I had a really bad day and posting makes me happy. So you get another chapter.
> 
> This is half about Dwarven politics and cultural perceptions, so it may be draggy, but bear with me, this all becomes important later.
> 
> Much thanks to quadrad for beta-ing.
> 
> Dedicated to tamarama for comments and kudos, and the two guests who left kudos.

Kili wiped sweat from his brow.  The traditions said he had to at least do some of the work on their new home, building it being a task that had to be done before a wedding could take place.  He had hired the best architects and masons to do most of the work, but at least some of it must be done by his own hand.  He was absolute rubbish with a hammer and chisel, so he devoted his part of the labor to the metal furnishings, as his forge work wasn’t bad.  Currently, he was shaping the decorative metalwork to go around a lamp bracket.  He’d seen how she admired the fancy wood carvings in the Woodland Realm that depicted leaves and vines, so he was crafting all of the lamp brackets and sconces with a scrollwork pattern and affixing wrought iron leaves to it to give the impression of vines.  The leaves were harder than he’d anticipated, but finally he was done with the ones he had planned to do for the day.

“Finished with the forge now lad?”  The Forge Master who ran the particular forge Kili had chosen to work in threw him a towel, which Kili used to dry off, mostly.

“Yes, just let me clean up a bit and I’ll get out of your way.”  Kili began putting away the tools he had used and gathering up the finished leaves.  “Thank you for letting me use the forge.”

“Tis not a problem, your money’s good.”

“Not enough for some I spoke to.  They seemed to take issue with my bride.  I took issue with their sneers.  You’ve never done that.”

“Why would I?  Your bride’s amazing!  My daughter Katla says she’s the first teacher to just _accept_ that there’s a dwarrowdam in her class.  So many times I’ve had to comfort her when someone she looked up to said she was too weak to be a guard.  Mister Dwalin and your lady are the first people to let her know she really can be what she’s always dreamed.”

“That sounds like her.  Did anybody ever tell you about how she managed to convince me to give her weapons lessons?”

“Not that I know of.”

“She _threw_ Dwalin.  Just tossed him over her hip like a sack of flour.  Right then and there I knew she was a warrior born.  We worked out a deal to trade lessons, and that was that.”

“I’d heard the flipping story; it’s a legend among Dwalin’s trainees.  My Katla’s even learning to do it herself, in your lady’s weekly classes.”

“You must be proud of her.”

“That I am.  Any time you need a forge, just let me know.”

Kili thanked the Forge Master, and took his finished leaves to the storage room Thorin had designated for his use while their home was being built.  He thought briefly of going to the site of their new home, to speak with the foreman and see how the delving progressed, but discarded that idea.  The foreman had made it quite clear that Kili would only be underfoot for the initial stages.  Later, when the home was mostly shaped, he could be of use, dictating the decorative carvings and such, but until then it was best left alone.

Finally he settled on going to see Nori.  Their spymaster had been tracking the discontent surrounding his marriage to Chris, and surely by now there would be results.  He didn’t want to bother his bride-to-be with the bare wisps of rumor until they became something more solid.  Nori’s official office as Spymaster was in the upper Halls, near the Royal sector.  It was also almost always empty.  He kept it stocked with the rejected drafts of his brother’s mastery project and several pens that he occasionally rearranged.  He kept the whole thing dusted, or it would show his disuse of it.

Nori’s real work took place in the Underhalls, among the thieves he used to be one of.  Few Dwarves who weren’t a part of the seedier side of Erebor ever found their way into the labyrinth of tunnels and caverns, and those who did rarely left alive.  Kili knew only a small fraction of the network, just enough to get to Nori’s headquarters.  As he ducked into a tunnel that looked like a niche from the outside he heard his guard groan.  Toki was a good guard, he didn’t try to stop Kili, as he knew that would only result in being ditched.  Everybody assigned to him since the day he found Chris had learned from his former guard being put on Wall patrol for three weeks.  But Toki hated going into the Underhalls.

“Do we have to?”

“I want to talk to Nori.  You’re welcome to stay here; I’ll vouch for you if Dwalin gets upset.”

“No.  You go into that wretched place, I go too.  If I can’t convince you to stay out of the Underhalls…”

“You can’t.” Kili interrupted

“Then let’s go.  The faster we get there the faster we can leave.” Toki checked his daggers once more before the two of them stepped into the tunnel.

Their path was fairly simple, two rights and a left, but the near total darkness made it easy to miss turns.  There was a type of lichen cultivated on the walls that glowed, but that was all the light he had to navigate by.  Surely elsewhere in the Underhalls there were torches and candles and lanterns.  He had heard of pleasure dens that blazed with light, places of music and laughter.  He’d never had a desire to _go_ there, because as much music and laughter there was an equal if not greater measure of mindless greed and quiet desperation.  He’d seen similar places in the towns of Men.  But it would be interesting to see what these tunnels looked like in full light.

He reached the door to Nori’s headquarters.  It didn’t look like a door at the moment, though, being closed.  Nori had located the Den, as he liked to call it while most of the company had spent the days of the siege of Erebor combing the treasury, and claimed it as his own, but only because it had been left open.  Kili knew this was the place only because down at the bottom of the wall was the same mark as had been placed on Bilbo Baggins door all those years ago.  Kili rapped hard on the stone, and was rewarded with the door manifesting and Nori’s head sticking out.

“What’re you doing here?”

Kili sighed.  Nori hated that anyone knew the location of his hideaway, besides his minions. “I came to discuss that project I asked you to take on.  Can I come in?”

The door opened wider in response.  Kili and Toki entered, Toki taking up a place by the, now closed again, door, while Kili went further in, to the room Nori used for tracking rumors.  The walls were covered in a thick, soft material that took well to pins being stuck in it.  That was the use Nori put it to, pinning up pieces of parchment with notes or names or pictures.  Connecting the pieces was multicolored string, color coded.  Kili had no idea how the whole thing worked, but Nori had foiled at least one assassination with this method, so it obviously did.

A space had been cleared in one corner for the restlessness regarding Kili’s lady.  There were only a few handfuls of notes, as compared to the main area where sometimes they overlapped.  Nori stood in contemplation of the corner, placed up another string, this one going between a sketch of a Dwarf with a scar on one cheek and a note about part of a shipment of blast powder going missing.  Kili let him stare at the new string for a moment, and then coughed loudly.

“So, is there anything new?”  It was a silly question, he’d just seen him put up something new, and there were more notes now than when last he saw the corner.

“Well, there are a handful of new complaints.  It’s mostly the same folk who gripe about everything, so it’s not much.  A rumor that Thorin’s going to have to disown you to keep half-bloods out of the succession order.  Its malarkey, by the way, I had Ori check.  You can still be in the Royal line, your possible future children just can’t inherit the throne.  But there’s another few rumors, very solid, that there’s a dwarrowdam that Fili likes, so you may not have to provide heirs.  Any truth to those, do you know?”

“Yes.  There’s a jeweler that does custom work, very good custom work.  I don’t know her name, but let’s just say Mother has gotten more jewelry in the past three weeks than in the past three years.”

“Good, then.”  He moved to a different corner and changed out a bit of ribbon on one pin for another color, before returning.  “Anyway, there’s also the rumor that she’s a spy from Gondor or Rohan, primarily because no-one knows where she came from.  There are a number of Dwarves that I think could be brought ‘round to the right way of thinking if only they knew where she came from.”

“I don’t think telling them my bride is not only a daughter of Men, but also not of this world is going to help.  They’re leery of outsiders as it is; there’s no need to make it worse.”

“I never intended that.  I intended to lie.  I have a story written down somewhere…”  He searched the large round table in the center of the room, pulling out a piece of parchment with careful script on it.  “Here it is.  I propose we tell people she’s of the Dunedain.  I have three different versions of the same story for careful distribution among the craftsmen and merchants, the peasantry and the nobles.  Honestly, although the craftsmen version was the hardest, the nobles was ridiculously easy.  I just implied that she’s distantly related to the ancient King of Arnor, and came to be in the mountain to escape those who would pursue her for her status alone.  Romantic, implies she’s no desire to rule us, and gives her that snooty edge nobles love so much.”

“I don’t think she will be ok with lying to people about her origins.  She’s managed so far to only tell members of the Company, but her best friend and Oath-Bound sister has only been told she comes from a very far off land.  She’s not going to tell Roda she’s a Dunedain princess, not that Roda would believe it.”

“It’s not supposed to be a general announcement; it’s supposed to be a rumor, untraceable and vague.  It’s mist on the mountainside, my friend.  Your lady has no need to lie; my minions and I’ll be doing it for her.”

“She’s still going to hate it.”

“I’m alright with that if it keeps her safe.  Are you?”

“Yes, but if she gets angry about it, I’m throwing you in front of me as a shield.”

“Fair enough.  Let’s see, where was I?  Oh yes, the case of the missing blast powder.  Saved the best for last.  It was hard to track it at first, because when the shipment came in light, there was almost no evidence.  It was a nifty piece of work, I must say.  But blast powder has a distinctive smell that rubs off on people who handle it, and several of my watchers report a Dwarf with a scar on his right cheek, smells of blast powder, and was complaining about your lady.  He’s not on my list of whiners, and never complained of anyone else, except her supporters, and always in that context, as her supporters.  He never complained of Thorin’s taxes, and everyone complains of Thorin’s taxes, down here.  He only complained that Thorin was condoning you running off with an outsider.”

“Why do I get the idea ‘outsider’ wasn’t the word used?”

“Because it wasn’t.  But I need you to stay calm for the next bit.  Anyway, line drawn between the missing blast powder and Scar, and his disapproval of her, I put out feelers to see if anyone can turn up a trace of a plan.”

“Blast powder has to be used within a certain amount of time, right?  Does that give us a timeline?”

“The missing blast powder goes bad in two months’ time.  But even bad, it does terrible damage.  It only gets less predictable and less controllable.  If the plotters aren’t familiar with blast powder or don’t care they might get incinerated alongside their target, they could use it after that date.”  Nori tilted his head, weighing the possibilities and assessing risk.  “But on the off chance they know what they’re doing, is there anything within the two months that might be a target?”

“We, that is, the Royal family, are opening a new hospital Oin’s managing.  He said he’s too old to go to patients himself, and wants a place with both other healers to take the slack and better facilities.  But would anyone be so crazed about the whole thing to attack a _hospital_?”

“You never know with some people.  There are some truly insane or evil Dwarves out there.  I see it because I’m always in it, surrounded by it.  I can’t tell Thorin this, of course, because he’ll want to raze the Underhalls, and that won’t do anything but drive the remaining thieves, murderers and plotters to a place I cannot track them.  Keep safe, and I’ll arrange for watchers to follow your lady in case extra hands become needed to defend her.  I’ll also talk to Dwalin about the security for the hospital opening.  Now go, before I get further distracted from my work.”

“Thank you Nori.  I feel better knowing you’re looking out for us.”

“What’s family for, if not this?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a note, when Kili says 'outsider' wasn't the word used, my headcanon is that there's a word in khuzdul that sort of means outsider, but is much nastier and a pretty bad insult. There is a word that just means outsider, with no nasty connotations, but that's not the word that these people used.
> 
> As always, you can find me here: bairnsidhe.tumblr.com 
> 
> WARNING, TEASER IMMINENT  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> If Eru were not the father of all life in Arda, he might have shaken his head at the stubbornness of Aulë. As he was the creator of the World, he felt he could not do something as undignified as place a hand on his face in frustration.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So what's up in Valinor? We finally get some explanations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I almost put this at the very end of All Those Who Wander, as an epilogue, but decided it would fit better in the sequel. 
> 
> Much thanks to quadrad for beta-ing.
> 
> Dedicated to Anemira_Lynx for kudos and to tigrislilium for commenting.

Meanwhile, in Valinor, a heated discussion was taking place.

“But Eru…”

“No, Aulë.  I will not interfere nor allow you to interfere.  You meddled once before in the girl’s life, and I let it be, for she was matched to one of your children.  But if you have allowed your children to become so fearful of outsiders that they would harm the One of their prince, then that is your burden to bear.  I will not let you confront them directly.  Ours is a subtle power and must be used as such.  I’m not pleased by the display you put on for them, either.”

“If we don’t do _something_ , that girl and probably all the Royal family of Erebor are going to die.  I brought her here, and you allowed it.  To now abandon her to death is unconscionable.  Not to mention the fact that then there would be no King under the Mountain, which is not really a good idea, with the growing darkness and the return Sauron.  That mountain needs to hold fast, and it won’t without a good King.”

Eru did something then that could possibly be called sighing, in another, less divine being.  “Fine.  You brought the girl here, if it becomes needful, you may send her back.  I will allow you to do that much.”

“To send her back would be an even crueler fate, now that she has found her One!”

“Her people do not have Ones.  She has loved before and can love again, should she be sent home.  She will not fade.”

“ _Her_ people might not, but _mine_ do.  Would you break apart the bond that is now and forever in the heart of one of my children?  Would you doom him to a half-life?”

If Eru were not the father of all life in Arda, he might have shaken his head at the stubbornness of Aulë.  As he _was_ the creator of the World, he felt he could not do something as undignified as place a hand on his face in frustration.  “I would not, and you are devious to use my romantic side against me.  _If_ there comes a pressing need, and _if_ he is near enough for the portal to transport, you may send him across the barrier as well, then you may transport them back at such time as is safe.  Should it not become safe again, they must live out their days in her world.”

“But her world has such short lives, over in a blink, and should he be there he would be subject to its rules.”

“That is the most generous offer you will receive.  Do not try my patience or it may be rescinded.”

“Yes, Eru.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, my headcanon is that Aule is sort of the spoiled child of the Valar, and knows every button to press to get his way with Eru. I mean, the Dwarves were totally off the map and they had fairly harsh rules about straying from Eru's plan, and yet Eru let them continue and gave them true life. And on a related note, I figured out like five ways to say face palming without sounding modern!
> 
> WARNING, TEASER IMMINENT  
> *  
> *  
> *  
>  “First time in my life it’s been appropriate to look thick-waisted at a formal event."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attack leads to unexpected consequences.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, some action!
> 
> Much thanks to quadrad for beta-ing.
> 
> Dedicated to Bead for kudos, tigrislilium for kudos and comments and quadrad for commenting.

After the past three months of steady routine, Chris was ready for the break that she would get as the Royal Family opened Oin’s new hospital.  Not that doing public appearances was relaxing or easy, they had to be ‘on stage’ the whole time, but at least it got her out of studying.  And Chris had the unfailing support of Roda and Lady Dis when it came time to get ready for them.  Roda knew just when to break her nerves with a joke or amusing anecdote, and Lady Dis had a keen eye for what she should look like, a handy friend to have when playing to a crowd of people not even of my own species.

“How do I look?” Chris asked nervously.  The dress was fitted, but the cut made my middle look larger than I liked and something about the shoulders looked too square.  It had looked so feminine in the design the dressmaker showed us, but something had gone terribly wrong somewhere.

“You look wonderful, dear.  You always look wonderful.”

“You’ve obviously never seen me fresh out of practice, all sweaty and gross.”

“But I have, and you looked very…Dwarven.” Roda interjected.  “Had you grown up among us, you would know that being a good warrior is an infinite advantage, romantically speaking.  No result of training yourself the way you do could be considered ‘gross’, if that word means what I think it does.  And if your people told you otherwise, I think you made a fine choice to live here instead, as they are obviously clot-heads.”

“Well said, my dear.” Dis said to Roda.  Turning back to Chris, she frowned.  “You still look worried.  What specifically are you worried about?”

“It looked so feminine in the drawing, but now it’s… well, just look at it!”

“Ah, so you caught me out, eh?  After Nori informed me that one complaint against you was that you were ‘too Elven’, I asked all your dressmakers to cut your clothes to shorten you and square you off a bit.  It’s not that you aren’t lovely even in the clothes you normally wear, you are, but with public opinion so mixed about you, I thought it best to try to refute the accusation.  But Dwarves don’t have the same standards of what is womanly that your folk do.  You still look feminine, just in a more Dwarven way.”

“First time in my life it’s been appropriate to look thick-waisted at a formal event.  Where’s the jewelry?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Every time you insist I get a new dress, there’s also jewelry to go with it, usually color coordinated.  I’ve given up on telling you not to do that, I just want to see what excessive gift I’m accepting this time before you shove it on my neck and arms at the last minute.”  The first dress she’d had made was white, and Chris had put up such a fuss over the diamonds that ever since Dis had waited until there was no time to fight her before ambushing Chris with fine gems.  She still hated diamonds, but this dress was red, so it was probably just rubies.

“Fine,” Dis said with a sigh.  “I thought garnets might set the dress off best, even if they are a little plain.”  She produced a ring, twin bracelets and a necklace.  Chris was never sure where Dis hid them all, but they seemed to magically appear from nowhere.  The ring was a white metal Chris now knew better than to assume was silver, set with a garnet the size of her pinkie nail.  The bracelets were two inch bands of small stones, the colors used to make a knot work pattern.  The necklace was the only thing she would have ever picked out on her own, a beautiful choker-style arrangement of worked metal, the pattern matching the bracelets, but more delicate.  From the bottom edge hung tiny garnets, about the size of seed beads, and Chris was once again awed by what Dwarves could accomplish without modern technology.

Dis and Chris were met by Kili, Fili and Thorin, who insisted on performing ceremonial guard duty whenever the Royal Family did something like this, despite the fact that the two women both had two guards assigned from Dwalin on all official outings.  They made their way to the new hospital, drawing curious stares from passer-by, but there were few enough of those.  Everyone who didn’t have anything better to do than stare at the Royal family was already at the hospital.

They mounted the short stage, Chris trying as hard as she could to do so gracefully, sending up a thankful prayer that Balin had remembered to include walking in ladyclothes as a part of her studies.  And that there were no high heels.  Once on the stage, her job was simple: stand there looking regal until all the talking was done.

The talking concluded and the doors to the new hospital opened.  There was no big red ribbon and giant scissors, but the event was filled with enough pomp and circumstance to make up for that.  Although the initial opening was a public affair, open to anyone, a smaller celebration was planned for the people who would be working there.  Everyone filed in, and the broad entry area (it was too large to truly be called a vestibule) was set up for a reception.  There was a table of food, and a keg of ale and another of cider, and most impressive of all, a giant, seven tiered cake, frosted in Durin blue and the deep red that was the symbolic color of healers.  Little silver stars were embedded in the Durin blue layers, while tiny golden suns dotted the red layers.  It looked too pretty to eat.

Dis motioned Chris forward subtly, and she came to stand beside the dwarrowdam princess.  Dis handed her a knife and a cake server, and she knew her job was to cut pieces of the cake.  It was nerve wracking, as she’d never had such an active role in public appearances before.  Chris took three deep breaths to center herself before placing the knife blade on the bottom Durin blue layer.  It cut cleanly, and when she had the slice prepared, she lifted it gently to set it on the plate Dis held.  She handed the plate to Chris and mouthed the word ‘Thorin’.  Chris did her best to be graceful as she presented the plate to him.  Serving people off of large trays is one skill, looking good while carrying a cake plate is another.  Once that trial was done, it was repeated with Fili.  When it came time to serve Kili, he came to his beloved, using the hand-off as cover for squeezing her hand.  Just as she thought she was managing her nerves ok, a strong sulfurous scent hit her nose and she could not contain a sneeze.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nori’s minions scoured the site of the hospital opening the night before, looking for blast powder or anything that might indicate a plot, to no avail.  Security was tight, and Dwalin had guards everywhere, but Nori also put watchers in the crowd to see if they might catch villains in the act.  The public opening went well, no sign of danger, but as the crowd dispersed, several things happened at once.

Nori had been leaning on a wall to one side of the gathering, watching the people move off, watching for someone moving in the wrong direction, looking for Scar or anyone suspicious.  He was beginning to think nothing would happen when one of his minions, Saksi, came running up.  He was about to speak when Bofur ran up as well, panting and waving.  They began speaking at the same time and Nori had to stop them.

“One at a time!  Saksi, you first.”

“Spotted the scarred one, he was dressed as a cook, but he was leaving the hospital by a service entrance.  One no-one should have been using.”

“Leaving, you say?  Was there any hope of catching him?  Oh, never mind, I know you, you would never have let him go if there was.  Sorry ‘bout that.  Bofur?”

“Blast powder.  Not sure where, but I was just passing the doors and smelled it.  Too faint for most to notice, but I’ve been a miner most of my life and we learn to tell it no matter how light the trace is.”

“Scar leaving… blast powder… Mahal’s beard!  We’ve got to get them out of there!”  He grabbed Bofur by the arm and the two of them sprinted for the open door of the hospital.  They rounded the entrance as Lady Chris cut the cake.  She was handing a piece to her One when the smell hit them.  Blast powder.  It seemed to be coming from the cake, and the significance of Scar’s costume finally hit Nori.  “The cake!  Get away from the cake!”

Dwarves scattered, driven by the frantic tone in Nori’s bellowed warning.  Unfortunately the youngest prince and his lady were right by the hazardous confection.  Thinking and acting as one, Nori dove for Kili as Bofur grabbed Chris.  They hadn’t enough time to get clear, though, and their world filled with brilliant white light.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The explosion was pure, bright, blinding light.  That was the foremost sensation.  Next was dizziness, a vertigo-like feeling that left them unsure which way was up.  When at last the nauseating combination faded, they were left with blissful unconsciousness.  When they woke, it was to grassy hills and the shadow of a cliff.

“Where are we?”  Bofur shook his head as though that would resolve the sight before him into one he knew.  “It’s not what I expected from the Halls of Waiting, that’s for certain.”

Chris groaned and popped her back before looking around.  “I recognize this place.  That cliff right there is where I fell, before landing in…. Fuck.  Guys, we’re in New Zealand.”

“Really?  I’ve always wondered what it would look like.”

“Kili, you don’t get it, none of you have proper identification or even a passable cover story, we’re at least an hour’s walk from anywhere, and we all look like something out of a costume drama.  We’re _screwed_.  Plus, even if we _can_ get back to civilization, I’ve probably been presumed dead, and that’s its own trouble.”

“Do you think we’ll be able to get home?”  The plaintive note in Nori’s voice was unexpected and unlike him.  The normally cocky thief looked lost.  “Both times that the jump has happened Chris has been in mortal danger, do you think if we all went to the top of that cliff and held hands and jumped that we’d go home?”

“I want to go home too, Nori, but I’m not willing to jump off a cliff to do it.  We’d only wind up pancaking ourselves.  We’ve got to think rationally.  I need you on top of your game.”

“But, Dwalin…”

“Will still be there when we find a safe way back.  Now shape up and snap out of it.  I need you here.  _We_ need you.”

“Right.  First thing, inventory.  What do we have and how might we use it?”

“Um, clothes and jewelry here, mostly.  We could sell the jewels to get local money.”

“We all have clothes, but good call on the gems.  I’ve also got a purse of coins, mostly silver; do you think we could find a money changer?”

“Pawn shop would be best for that.  Does anybody have food?”

“Aye, I’ve got a pouch of jerky.  Bom’s wife keeps trying to feed me, says I’m too skinny.  What about weapons?  Anyone have something that we could use for that?”

“I don’t think waving a sword is going to help us, Bofur.  Most people here don’t go in for weapons, and if they do a gun is more likely to gain respect.”

“A gun?”

“Don’t ask.  What I wouldn’t give to have my phone here and charged.”

Just then they heard a woman’s voice from a distance.  They looked in that direction and saw a figure waving at them from the top of a hill.  The Dwarves were wary, but Chris stood and shaded her eyes with one hand, peering at the figure.  Then, smiling, she began waving her arm back at the person on the rise.  The woman broke into a run and soon was near enough that her words could be heard.

“Oh my Gahd, Chris!  Ah knew you weren’t dead.  Ah knew, just knew, that if Ah kept coming to look for you, Ah’d find you.”  The woman skidded to a stop.  “What are you _wearing_?  Is that silk?  Why are you wearing a silk dress in the middle’a bumfuck nowhere?”

“Oh, God, Meg, I have missed you so much!” Chris threw herself into the waiting arms of the newcomer.  “The craziest shit has gone down.  I should do introductions, though.  Meg, this is Bofur and Nori, and my fiancée, Kili.  Guys, this is my best friend, Meg.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, you can find me here: bairnsidhe.tumblr.com
> 
> WARNING: TEASER IMMINENT  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> The thing about Meg, that one undefinable quality that makes her unlike most of the sane world, is that when Chris introduced three fictional characters to her, her response was disbelief…that Chris was getting married.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Erebor crew get their first glimpse of tech and it terrifies them; Chris is reunited with her best friend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to quadrad and aerie_star for kudos and to Grace, quadrad and tigrislilium for commenting.

There are reasons Christiana Abigail O’Malley was friends with Megan Grace Jackson.  Most of those reasons aren’t something Chris can normally explain.  But sometimes she does things that provide perfect examples.  The thing about Meg, that one undefinable quality that makes her unlike most of the sane world, is that when Chris introduced three fictional characters to her, her response was disbelief…that Chris was getting married.

“The fuck, Chris!  Yah’ve always said you didn’t want to get married, what the fuck?”

“To be fair I said I didn’t want to get married to anyone but my soul mate.  I just sort of assumed that I would never know who that person was for certain.  But then when I became a living light-show, it kinda became obvious.  Apparently Mahal gives his blessings.”

“Damn, girl.” Her Georgia accent was showing, an indication of how happy she was to see her best friend.  “Well, at least yah bagged one of the hot ones.”

“Meg!”

“Pardon me, Lady Meg, but perhaps this conversation could be had in a safer location.  I do not fancy being out in the open like this.”

“Well sure, Sugar.  Mah van’s just over there.  We’ll get yah back to our place and see what we oughta do.”

The five of them decamped to Meg’s old, beat-up purple van, parked on the service road not too far from where the blast had left Chris and the Dwarves stranded.  Of course, it was Meg’s van, so first they had to rearrange several large piles of costumes that were taking up the back.  Chris was fairly sure that none of the Dwarves knew what they were doing. But in the end the group managed to clear out enough room for the three Dwarves in the back.  Meg insisted that if the party contains women or elders the front goes to them, and although all the Dwarves were over eighty, that was equivalent to mid-twenties.  So Chris got the front seat.

She got in the car last though, being careful to guide the others through the process of buckling up first.  They seemed confused, but were good sports about it.  Meg chattered all through the clearing out and buckling in process, updating her friend on all the gossip.  More than a little of the gossip was what had gone down in the wake of Chris’s disappearance.  Apparently a full-scale inquiry had gone down with the daughter of two members of the diplomatic corps gone missing.  Of course, she had been in Middle Earth, so there was no body.

At the sound of the engine starting, the Dwarves all had different startle reactions.  Nori flicked his wrist knives into his hands.  Bofur instantly went still, warily looking toward the front of the van where the sound came from.  Kili reached forward to clasp his lady’s arm.

“Relax, guys.  It’s just the engine.  Now in a moment, Meg’s going to hit the gas and we’ll start moving.  It’s like riding in a carriage or a wagon, only without the horses.  Just stay calm, it’s perfectly safe.”  They relaxed, but only a hair, and as the van started down the service road, Kili’s hand found its way back to her arm.  They got to the highway and Meg picked up speed as they headed south toward Wellington.  Kili’s hand was still clamped on Chris’s bicep when the van pulled into the parking lot of the apartment building where Chris had lived with Meg before the excursion to Middle Earth. 

“So, do you have a second renter now?” Chris asked her friend.  The last thing she wanted was to have to explain the whole thing to whoever might have taken her room.

“Now, why would Ah do that?  Ah knew you weren’t dead, and it’s not like Ah needed the extra to cover it, not with the overtime Ah put in.  Your room is just the way yah left it.”  Meg glanced at her watch, then hopped out of the van and opened the back door.  “We’ve got here when nobody should be out and about, but Ah suggest you move quickly.  Ah want a chance at updating your wardrobe before anyone sees you.”

They didn’t quite sprint, but the pace was brisk as they made their way up the two flights to apartment 3b.  The apartment was practically the same as it had been when Chris last saw it.  Bookcases lined the walls, and Meg’s sewing machine for personal projects was sitting on the desk by the front window, a giant pile of half-done clothes next to it.  The kitchen was as tidy as the cook had left it, but dusty.  Meg wasn’t muck of a cook, preferring to order in or microwave something.  Chris looked at her old room.  The room was messy, but she could tell nothing had been moved.  She needed help to get out of the gown, so she grabbed Meg’s arm and pulled her into the room.

“You really were in denial about my disappearance, weren’t you?  Or did you just not want to pick up in here?”

“Sugar, Ah wouldn’t even know where to start in here.  Yah always knew where everything was, so Ah chose to leave it in case you ever came back.”  As she spoke, she started unlacing the back of the elegant dress.  With her help, Chris got stripped down to the under-layer of chemise and bloomers that she could handle on her own.  Meg then took a long look at her friend and started going through the closet. 

Chris knew Meg well enough to not mind that she was still in the room.  If she had ever possessed an ounce of shame at seeing a naked body it had long since been surgically removed.  It was hard to feel any body modesty when she showed all the interest in bodies that she did her dress form.  So Chris stripped out of the chemise and bloomers, and went to the dresser to find underwear and a bra.  By the time she was looking for jeans, Meg interrupted her search for a clean pair, presenting her with the back-up sweatpants that usually languished in the back of the closet.

“Yah’ve put on a few inches of muscle in your thighs and hips.  And since yah like your jeans to be like a second skin, Ah don’t think they’ll fit.  These have enough stretch to still work.”

“Thanks, Meg.  Can you grab the matching hoodie for me, please?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me here: bairnsidhe.tumblr.com 
> 
> Teaser Warning  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> “Nori, get down from there this instant! And give me the book!”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dwarves investigate their new surroundings, Nori gets in over his head and practical matters are discussed.

The contingent of Dwarves, lacking the guidance of the two women, cautiously poked about the front two rooms.  The room lined with books had a large window with glass of an astounding purity and size, in front of which was a desk that seemed sturdy enough, but Nori was pretty sure that wasn’t actually wood, though he’d no idea what it could be instead.  There was also an odd contraption on the desk that looked vaguely dangerous.

While Nori was poking the slick almost ceramic-like surface of the device, Bofur and Kili went through the large arch into a tiled room.  Tile on the floors was one thing, the next best solution other than living mountain rock, but the shiny copper rounds on the walls spoke of a wealth that neither had expected.  The counter was white granite with lines of grey shot through it.  There was also a large steel box on one wall, with two doors.  Bofur ran his hands over the shining metal and exclaimed at the purity and fine craftsmanship, but when they opened the box a blast of frigid air had them slamming shut the doors.

Nori had moved on to looking at the books on the shelves that lined the walls.  He almost laughed at the large collection of books with the word ‘dragon’ in the title, often coupled with the phrase ‘Dragonriders of Pern’.  Some of the people in this world had no idea what a dragon truly is, obviously.  He considered palming a copy of one of the books to show Dwalin when (not if, never if) they returned home, but thought better of it.  Not a good idea to steal from hosts.  Suddenly remembering the name of the man who wrote the stories of Arda, Nori began searching for books by him. He found them close to the large window with a metal stairway outside it.  Out of habit he checked that the window was unlocked and opened it the first fist-width for easy escape.  Nori mused that Ori would love to have the first book in the collection, titled The Silmarillion.  It appeared to be a history of the first and second ages.  His fingers lingered for a moment over The Hobbit, but he knew that story was not quite accurate to his own world.  The next book was titled the Fellowship of the Ring, and he slid the volume off the shelf.  It was bound in stiff paper, similar to what the merchants of Harad used to make into boxes to hold goods, but with a shiny finish.  He opened the book to the first page and began to read.  Ori may have the reputation of the scholar, but Nori had trained himself to read and remember very quickly.  It came in handy in both the thieves’ trade and as Spymaster.  Based on the age of Bilbo in the first chapter, the book took place fifty seven years in the future.  This could be of great use to the kingdom. 

He was pondering the nature of Tom Bombadil when he heard running footsteps.  Glancing back he saw Lady Chris, her mouth open in shock and charging at him.  Quickly he slipped out the window and up the metal stair.  Most Dwarves would go down to escape, but Nori had cultivated a fondness for high places.  Very few Guards were willing to climb to catch a thief.

“Nori, get down from there this instant!  And give me the book!”

“No!  It may contain vital information pertaining to the safety of the kingdom, and as Spymaster it is my right and my duty to obtain said information.”

“It contains things you may want to change, which may drastically alter the future and possibly result in the triumph of Sauron over Middle Earth, and as future Princess it is my right and duty to stop you before you destroy what must be!  Now get off the roof and give me the book.  I swear that I will tell you the things you can prepare for and the things that can aid the kingdom, if you just come down and give me the book.”

Nori considered the offer.  On one hand, source material was better than second hand, but on the other hand, there was already a history of significant details being wrong in the books.  It all came down to whether or not he trusted Lady Chris.  Nori hardly trusted anyone, the exceptions being his brothers and Dwalin.  He didn’t even really trust the King, but Dwalin had helped him plan an escape route if Thorin ever turned on his Spymaster.  But this girl, this spitfire who disobeyed orders and common sense for the sake of love, this girl who suffered and grew from it, who braved living in a world not her own, he may trust her with this much at least.  Silently, he climbed down from the edge of the roof he had perched on and handed her the book.  Before he released it, he looked her in the eye and said, “I’ll have your Oath, my Lady.”

“I, Christiana Abigail O’Malley, betrothed of Kili son of Vili and impending Princess of Erebor give my Oath and Bond that I shall give you any information that may be used to strengthen or defend Erebor in times of crisis, so long as said information does not lead to damage to the space-time continuum of Arda.”  Lady Chris took the book from his now-unresisting hands.  “Can we please go inside to have this talk?”

Once inside, Chris retrieved Kili and Bofur from the kitchen where they had discovered the microwave and were debating its purpose.  She directed them to the dining nook, and prepared for a conference.

“Now that we have safety and a place to plan from, we really need to address how we’re going to handle being here.”

“In addition, you gave an oath to tell me what’s coming, since you won’t let me read the book.”

“That too, but can we focus on the immediate issue first?  I have the books practically memorized, same with the movies, I can tell you at home.  Now we need to build cover identities for you.”

Meg piped up then from the arch leading from the dining nook to the living room.  “I know a guy who can get fake IDs, but we need to give him names, and no offence dude, but Bofur is not gonna fly.”

“What’s wrong with my name?!”

“It’s not that there’s anything wrong with it,” Chris protested, “it’s just unusual enough here that people won’t believe it’s your real name.”

“We should stick close to our real names though, in case of mistake or being overheard,” Kili reasoned.

“Good idea.  Why don’t you be Killian?  And Nori can be Norris, and Bofur can be….”

“Booker,” said Meg filling up the awkward pause.  “What?  Booker T. Washington is a hero of mine.”

“Are those names satisfactory?”

A grumble of  ‘aye’s’ went around and then the penny dropped for Chris.

“Last names!  Dwarves don’t really use them, they use the ‘son of’ format.  I’ve gotten so used  to it that it only just now occurred to me.  I suppose Kili could go by Killian Vilison…”

“Is there a last name that means fox?”  Nori asked.  “When I was a full-time thief my name was the Fox.”

“Renard.  It means fox in French.  So you’ll be Norris Renard, and Bofur can be Booker Broadbeam.”

Agreed to this, the next thing that came up was their clothes.  Meg, with all the delicacy of a bulldozer, informed them that no one staying in her house went out wearing what in this world was costume get-up.  She kindly bullied them into letting her take measurements, and if she spent a little longer on Bofur’s inseam than needed, that was her business.  Armed with measurements and their new names, Meg agreed to go out for both clothes and the meet with the guy who made fake IDs.  To help pay for their disguises, Chris also sent along the garnet necklace.  Meg knew fellow costumers who would pay a fortune for such authentic looking jewelry.  That left Chris to corral the curious Dwarves until her friend returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me here: bairnsidhe.tumblr.com 
> 
> Teaser:
> 
>  
> 
> Tell that to Tolkien, Kili. But I did like the bit where he basically tells the Ringwraiths to stick it where the sun don’t shine and bugger the fuck off.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storytime!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this is taking me so long. I promise the next chapter soon.

 

“So, lass,” Bofur said with more enthusiasm than cheer, “I believe you and Nori had a deal about a tale to be told…”  The miner rubbed his arm nervously.  “Can’t say as I’d mind a story of home right about now.”

“The future is her secret to protect, Bofur,” Kili protested hotly.   “Her honor demands it remain hidden, as it should.  Only the Valar should know such things.”

“It’s alright Kili,” Chris said, placating her beloved before he got too wound up.  “I only promised to tell what wouldn’t change too much.  And I think most of it will be different enough that it won’t be too accurate on the details I choose to leave out.  So gather ‘round as I tell you a story”

She started with the Ring.  Kili didn’t even remember the ring, and Bofur only vaguely recalled Bilbo getting squirrely during the siege and patting his pockets a lot, which he had attributed to the later discovery of Bilbo’s possession of the Arkenstone.  Nori, however remembered it clearly, from only a second’s glimpse as Bilbo put it in his pocket before they entered Mirkwood.

“So it’s evil, then?” Nori asked thoughtfully.  “Thought he was actin’ odd ‘bout it.”

“Yup, it’s the One Ring, Sauron himself forged it.  It turns the wearer invisible.”

“Really?” asked Nori with more glee on his face than was really necessary.  “Then he wasn’t just a natural at breaking us out!  He was rigging the game.  Not that I mind that in the slightest, but I admit me professional pride was a bit wounded that a beginner could do what I couldn’t.”

“Nori, I say this as your Shield-brother and good friend, but you are a geode,” said Kili with great seriousness.

“I take that as a compliment,” Nori said and puffed out his chest.

“Can I get back to the story?”

She told them of the birthday party and how hard it was for Bilbo to leave the ring and how Gandalf researched it and uncovered its nature.

“…and it will be up to Frodo Baggins, Bilbo’s nephew to destroy it in Mount Doom, where it was forged.  So they go to Rivendell to meet with the council of Elrond to discuss it.  By the way, in the books, please recall Thorin and his heirs die in that version and Dain is King Under the Mountain, the Dwarves of Erebor send a delegation to report that the Nazgul had shown up asking about Bilbo and the Ring.”

“But Dain isn’t in the line of succession for Erebor!” protested Kili  “It goes Thorin, whose heir is Fili, then me, then jumps to the line of Borin, so Oin would have been next, although he would have abdicated to stay with his craft and it would have gone to Gloin, then Gimli if he’s old enough.  There’s been a law for simply ages that someone successfully ruling one hall cannot inherit another.  Dain has the Iron Hills, and he’s doing quite well with them, so he _can’t_ get Erebor.”

“Tell that to Tolkien, Kili.  But I did like the bit where he basically tells the Ringwraiths to stick it where the sun don’t shine and bugger the fuck off.  So Gloin and Gimli are there to take part in the council of Elrond.  Gimli goes on the quest with them, there is danger and peril and such and Gandalf kills and is killed by a Balrog…”

“WHY, BY MAHAL’S DUSKY LEFT TIT, IS THERE A BALROG!?!?!” screeched Nori, causing Chris to jump a bit in her seat.

“Because, Nori,” she tried to explain calmly, “it would be far less dramatic if there had been an infestation of butterflies.”

“But There Are No Balrogs.  None.  They don’t exist.  They’re a myth to keep miners from delving too deep and hitting magma.”

“Like any miner worth his salt would hit magma,” scoffed Bofur, professional pride at stake.

“You lot gonna let me tell the story, or would you rather have a dick-measuring contest?” demanded Chis.  “I can get a tape measure for you.”

And so the story continued, with interruptions and asides and everyone was very glad that Gimli neither got killed or tried to off Legolas, (although they were a little surprised they called each other friend and Gimli sailed to Valinor), and very glad that Bilbo got to live as old as he did, and other than that a bit disappointed that there were fewer mentions of Dwarves, and confused why Gandalf kept throwing Hobbits at quests.  There had been a vaguely good reason last time, but why Hobbits to destroy a magic ring?

By the time Chris was done telling the abridged version, the sky was red with the setting sun and Meg had been standing in the doorway for ten minutes.

“Y’all done?  I got the clothes, jeans, shirts, underthings, both boxers and briefs in case you’re picky.  You can keep your boots, and if we brush out and tie back your hair, you shouldn’t stand out too badly.”  Meg held out bags to the three Dwarves.

“What about the IDs?” asked Chris.

“They need pictures. The guy said we can get them at the drugstore.  I was thinking tomorrow we take the boys out to get the pictures.”

“Ok.  It’s getting late, let’s call it a night.  Are you all okay with sleeping in here?  Cause while I’d share a bed with Kili, nobody else gets that.”

“You’d…what?” Kili sputtered.  “That’s terribly improper, you know.”

“Oh it’s improper alright, _in Erebor_ , where I have to be on my best behavior because I’m about to be a princess.  But here I’m just a cook, and you don’t exist, and I can be as bold and improper as I want.  But it feels unfair to offer you that, and make the others sleep in here.”

“We don’t mind, not one sharding bit, love,” said Nori.  “This… long armchair thing…”

“Sofa, Nori.”

“Yes, well it looks quite lovely and comfy.  We’ll figure it out, won’t we Bofur?”

“Of course we will.  But I must remind you, even if we’re working in your mines now, eventually, we want to go back, and if you two have…done things…then you’ll officially be married and Lady Dis will kill us all for not letting her have that ceremony.”

“I think I can control myself not to ravage him, Bofur.  But if you really don’t mind, then I will invite Kili to share the bed, there’s lots of room.”

As it turned out, they were all so exhausted from their recent adventures that ravishment wasn’t really an option, as both Kili and Chris were sound asleep by the time their heads hit pillows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me here: bairnsidhe.tumblr.com
> 
>  
> 
> Edit: Forgot teaser.  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> “You BASTARD!” Dwalin screamed. “You faithless shale-spill!"


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mahal makes an appearance and Dwalin has a job to do.
> 
> Nwalin, but nothing explicit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to tigrislilium for commenting.
> 
> Now we get to the fun bits!

Down in the Halls of the Lost, Dwalin was crying.  The blast had taken out a large chunk of Oin’s hospital, leaving the rock unstable, or he’d be crying there.  He thought he’d felt the worst when Thorin almost died, but losing both his youngest Prince and his One in a single attack felt like someone had gutted him.  Of course he also missed his Prince’s One and Bofur, but he’d practically raised Kili, and Nori was the reason he lived.

Thus he retreated to the Hall of the Unburied Dead, because he didn’t even have bodies to put to the stone.  He wept and swore bitter vengeance and curled up on the floor by where he had just lit a candle for the lost, and slept.

He dreamed of a tall, broad figure, with hair of gold and a beard of mithril and a hammer in his hand.  Mahal, his Maker, the Valar of the Dwarves.

“You BASTARD!” Dwalin screamed.  “You faithless shale-spill!  You gave me a One and you took him AWAY and now what do I do?  Why would you do this?  Have I given offence?  Did Nori?  Why?”

“You speak boldly to your creator, my child.  But I know why and I forgive it.  But do not call me faithless, for I may yet solve the dilemma at hand.”

“What dilemma?  That blast powder killed them, there’s no fixing that.  Not even you can remake the dead.  And he is _dead_.  You let him _die_.”

“Actually….  Not so much.  I sent those who _would_ have died to a safe place.  They’re in the world that your soon to be Princess hails from, safe with a friend.”

“Nori…lives?” The hope was burning Dwalin’s chest and breathing came hard to him.  “Can you send him back?”

“Yes, provided you do me a service.  Track those responsible for this attack, find them and bring them to justice.  Make this mountain safe for your Prince’s Lady, and I will send them home.  In the meantime, you may be reunited in dreams.  Here he comes now.”

Nori sauntered into sight, then spotted Dwalin and dropped into a sprint, leaping into his lover’s arms.  Many soft words and loving caresses were exchanged.  When the pair finally convinced themselves that they were both alive, Dwalin turned to Nori and told him of the task Mahal had laid before him.  It seemed impossible, like moving a mountain, to make Erebor safe for a Daughter of Men who would be Princess.  Nori told Dwalin how to get into his lair and how to trace the lines, and the safe-words to use with Saksi and the other minions.  Even if he wasn’t in Erebor, Nori was still it’s Spymaster, and Dwalin was Head of the Royal Guard and together they would see a way past (or **through** , Dwalin noted) any obstacle.  The rumors still would be placed and encouraged, the defenders now having the upper hand of the tragic assassination to use.  No Dwarf worthy of the name would condone the smoking crater that had claimed three Dwarves’ lives and left many others injured.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Dwalin woke in the Halls of the Unburied Dead with the smell of Nori’s cedar-oil hair tonic in his nose and a smile at his lips.  He schooled himself to sternness before heading back up the stairways to the main Halls.

Whispers followed him, voices of concern and pity that would have grated in him had he not just come from Nori’s arms.

“How’s he going to do his job now as his One is gone?”

“Poor old battle axe, wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”

“Wouldn’t wish losing two charges on anyone either.  She may’a been a Daughter of Men, but she was an alright sort.  Made the Prince happy.”

Dwalin wanted to ignore the whispers, but he had to be Captain and Spymaster now.  He made his way to a tavern in the Underhalls and left a note with the barkeep for Nori’s minions.  Then he made his way to the Den, activated the secret catch, and went inside.

He found the papers Nori had told him of, and made a few notes of the things he had heard on his way from the Halls of the Lost to the Underhalls.  He didn’t have Nori’s gift for guile, but he did know that sooner or later one of Nori’s lieutenants would be by.  He was not disappointed.

A wiry dwarrow scarcely old enough to bear arms was the first to arrive.  He brought a flagon of mead with him and gave the name Sly-Tongue.  A muscle-bound Dwarf who called himself Skull-Cracker came next, bearing a haunch of boar meat.  Next arrived a Dwarf that must be Saksi, by his appearance.  He said to call him Keen-Eyes, and laid down a copper broach set with malachite. More Dwarves came, each bearing a gift and a use-name.  Fleet-Foot brought a loaf of bread and a bottle of black vinegar.  Blade-Dancer gave a gold ring and Light-Fingers a set of quills and ink cakes.  Some Dwarves came and left their gifts before leaving just as rapidly.

Keen-Eyes took Dwalin aside and explained, “They come to give respects.  When a walker of the crooked ways dies, there often isn’t a body, or the body is claimed by the blood-kin.  So we thieves and thugs and nibblers at edges do this.  We steal one thing that means something to us about the deceased.  Sly was a drunk when the Fox found him and straightened him out and gave him a purpose to that clever tongue.  Skull-Cracker was almost gored by a boar in the wilds outside the Blue Mountains when the Fox saved him.  I was caught stealing a broach almost exactly like that one when himself stepped in and got me freed on the condition I serve as a spy.  We use what craft we have to honor our dead.  We’ll eat the food and drink the mead, and give the items to his loved ones.  Which I guess is you.”

“Hmm,” Dwalin grunted.  He didn’t like the idea of taking stolen goods, but it was their way to honor his One and the impact he made.  Of course, if he had his way, Nori would be back soon and then he could return the items to their rightful owners.

He waited until it seemed there’d be no more guests, then stood and cleared his throat.

“We came here today to honor my Nori, and I thank you all for your gifts.  But I have one last thing I must ask of you.  Nori died because some stoneless excuses for Dwarves had a complaint against our late Princess.  His last words to me were about the importance of our people accepting the outside world, because sooner or later we’re going to need to work with folk not our own, and we need to be capable of doing it without hatred or grudge.  So I’m asking you, will you use your skills to help me catch the dishonorable pieces of grist?  Will you help me honor my Nori’s wishes by making this mountain safe for Daughters of Men?  Will you stand with me in this revenge?”

“Aye!” came the resounding cheer.  From there it was mostly Keen-Eyes directing the plots and plans.  Everyone knew where to find Dwalin, so he slipped away and retreated to his office.  They could do it, those minions of Nori, they could give him enough information to catch the Dwarf responsible for the explosion, and with him the rest of his cluster of traitors.  Saksi had given him a nod toward the pile of papers detailing rumors as he asked the spies to make the mountain safe, so he assumed they would be distributed as was intended.  He could check back later.  Now he needed to go tell the Royal Family that those they thought dead were instead displaced.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me here: bairnsidhe.tumblr.com 
> 
>  
> 
> Teaser:  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> Fili was quiet, neither rejoicing at the miracle nor wailing of the unfairness. He had his father’s practical soul, and neither merrymaking or hammering of chests would bring back the lost.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are made in the royal Halls, and Nori has a protective streak.

Thorin and Dis were, of course, happy no-one had died.  They were decidedly less happy that none of them could come home until Erebor had been made safe for Chris.  Mainly because Thorin felt it ought to have been safe from the start, and Dis knew exactly how much work went into bending public opinion and she wanted her baby home _now_.

Fili was quiet, neither rejoicing at the miracle nor wailing of the unfairness.  He had his father’s practical soul, and neither merrymaking nor hammering of chests would bring back the lost.  Instead he thought.  And after thinking (and letting his more dramatic family members get it out of their systems), he declared he would hire a minstrel to write a lay of the romance and tragic end of Kili and his Lady.  Something appropriately tragic, but catchy enough everyone would want to sing it.  The Lady Christiana had once mentioned her people used catchy tunes to sell products to people, so they could use the same idea to sell the notion that Chris didn’t deserve to die.  There was a popular minstrel who owed Dwalin a favor, and was skilled enough to write a song like that.

Dwalin informed him of the rumors Nori wanted spread, and Fili agreed that would make an excellent detail.  Dis knew a bard from the Iron Hills that had come back with her after the last trade negotiation trip, one who already thought Lady Christiana was splendid, and they agreed to commission a .play from him as well.

After some discussion, with Dwalin trying his best to say what Nori would want, they decided the play would be an official commission, with the royal seal attached, and would stick closely to what actually happened.  The song, conversely, would be a personal commission from Dwalin, with no acknowledgement that the Royal family had anything to do with it, and the hint that Chris was a Dunedain princess.

Dis summoned Ori, explained their predicament and asked him to work up a fictional family tree for Chris that would link her to the Dunedain.  Ori agreed with enthisiasm and joy that he might get his brother and friends back.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Ori took to the linking of Chris to the ancient kings of Men very well indeed.  His research turned up a decedent of Anárion, Elendil’s second son, who supposedly had a wife Dwarves would call craft-wed, for she refused him heirs.  Although why a craft-wed woman would marry a King of Gondor was beyond Ori’s comprehension.  The race of Men was odd about things like being craft-wed.  It was no small stretch to assume that if he wasn’t getting heirs from her, he might turn elsewhere, producing a girl-child who went on to grow a line stretching 2000 years, resulting in a lost princess, descended of Elendil, High King of the Two Kingdoms.

He carefully recorded this lineage on an ancient piece of parchment, using different script styles every few generations.  After the ink was dry, he lightly dusted it with coal dust to age the wrinkles even more, and tucked it away in case anyone came asking about Lady Chris’s background.  It was only a matter of time.  He had been known to be a friend to the future Princess, and between himself and Roda, someone asked where she came from on a weekly basis.  His complaining about that had been the basis for his brother’s idea of rumors in the first place.  His heart ached, and his throat hurt from sobbing before Lady Dis told him Dwalin’s news, but Nori was safe, and if they could make the mountain safe, then Nori could come home.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Meanwhile, in apartment 3b, Nori was telling the others about his nighttime meeting with Dwalin and the task Mahal had set the pair, for although only Dwalin had been given the responsibility of securing the mountain, in this, as in all things, Dwalin and Nori were a team.  Nori swore to his friends that he would see them safely home.  Bofur was keen to get back, but Kili and Chris shared a meaningful glance.  It had been nice, sleeping in each other’s arms, and before they dressed they’d shared a hushed conversation about all the things Chris wanted to show Kili about her birthplace.

Since it seemed that the time to show her friends everything she wanted to show them was shorter than anticipated, she wanted to at least give them some idea of it.  So Chris leapt at Meg’s idea of going to the drugstore a few blocks away to get the picture for the IDs.  To her surprise, not everyone agreed with the two women.

“But,” Bofur spluttered. “Lass, Nori’s just said we have a way home!”

“A way that will take time, and in the meantime, you all need identification.  And then I want to take you to the mall.  I’m aware I won’t get to show you everything I want to, but that’s a good concentrated dose of things.”  She made the face her Grandmother had called Puppy Eyes.  “Please?  I want to show you some of where I came from before we go home.”

Bofur sighed.  Now Kili was giving him the Look, the one that said “humor me or find mice in your boots for months”.  He looked to Nori for support, but found only a curious gleam in his eyes.  He should have known, Nori loved learning about people; it was what made him such a good Spymaster.  He wanted to know what made folks tick.

“It would be interesting to learn more about our future Princess,” Nori said slyly.  “And perhaps see some of the wonders she’s told us of.”

“Oh, alright,” Bofur said with an obvious resignation.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The drive over to the little cluster of shops went smoother than the first trip, but Kili still had his hand on Chris the entire trip.  Partly it was fear, and partly it was realizing that they could do that here, share casual touches and intimate glances that would be the talk of the mountain if they did that at home.

Meg did most of the talking, arranging with the photographer to take the pictures, while Chris showed her friends around.  They found amazement in the smallest details of her old world that let her see things she had taken for granted again with new eyes.  When it was time for the three to get their pictures taken, they all fussed with their appearance as much as if this was a portrait being painted.  Nori used a mirror he’d nicked from the beauty department to check his hair and made a little scowl that his peaks weren’t acceptable (there had been an argument before they left the house about those and his eyebrows, and while he’d lost the hair battle, he’d won on the eyebrows and they weren’t cut).  Bofur fiddled with his moustache and muttered about missing his hat.  Finally, Kili just walked up and stood in front of the grey screen, made the same fierce expression that he’d used in his formal portraits in the Blue Mountains and in Erebor, and said “ready.”  The two pictures were taken almost instantly, and Kili blinked, confused at how quick it was.

Bofur went next and Nori after him.  They waited while the photo guy developed the pictures, and when he was done they took the envelopes and went back out to the van.

Kili was pleased by his pictures, noting how life-like the work was and how the stretchy tie that he’d borrowed from Chris that morning allowed him to hold a halfway decent braid even through the whole morning.  Bofur had blinked at just the wrong moment, so one picture had them closed and his only useable picture came out looking like he was half asleep.  Nori groused about the plainness of his hairstyle yet again, but tucked the extra picture away in his jacket pocket.

Meg gathered up the pictures the three Dwarves had chosen for their ID’s and drove out to a dinky storefront several kilometers from the apartment building.  She was going to go in alone, but Nori had a bad feeling about that and after much discussion, it was decided he would accompany her.  As they stepped into the darkened interior of the shop, Nori wished with all his soul to have Dwalin’s firm bulk at his back.  He settled for leaning on a wall, instead.

The hairless Man that came out of the back was ugly, so ugly that for a second, Nori mistook him for an Orc.  He had tattoos of what looked like tentacles surrounding his skull, and massive holes in his earlobes held open with rings of what looked like bone.  His face was pierced in multiple places with silver rings and bright-colored spheres tipped off semi-circular bars through his brows.  When he spoke Nori caught the gleam of gold from his teeth.

“Goodnight Gracey, good to see you again.  You get the pictures?”

“Cartwright,” Meg nodded.  “I’ve got them.  You still have the paper with the names and ages?”

“Indeed I do.  You have the payment?”

“In here.”  She pulled a thick cream envelope out of her bag.  Nori couldn’t see how much coin could fit in there, but the hairless man seemed unperturbed by the slimness.  Meg handed the three envelopes with pictures over.

“Payment first, Gracey.”  The man reached for the cream envelope.

“That’s not what we agreed.” Meg danced away.

“The arrangement had to be re-arranged.”  He got a hand on her wrist.  “That’s business, love.”

“Oi,” Nori called.  “Lady’s not going to be payin’ for promises, friend.  Now let her go or I get nasty.”  He flicked knives into his hands.  “I’ve killed for less insult than you give her, so if you really think you can take me, by all means, I’m over here, waiting.  Or you could do the thing we contracted you for and come away with a lovely haul instead of a perforated windpipe to match your perforated face.”

The man let go and backed up, hands in the air.

“I’ll get on it, but if I find that you can’t deliver on the promise, you don’t get the licenses.”  He grabbed the pictures off the counter and retreated into the back.

“What did you promise him exactly, Lady Meg?”

“I did work for a new horror flick; he wanted a pair of tickets to the premiere.  I had gotten a pair as thanks, so I was going to give them to him in exchange.”

An hour passed slowly in the dim little shop, before Cartwright returned with hot rectangles of smooth material, each showing the face of one of the Dwarves, and a list of patently false information.  Back in the car they distributed them.  That was at least one task completed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The craft-wed queen was Berúthiel for the Tolkien nerds. She was a magical crazy cat lady. Learn more here: http://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Berúthiel
> 
> You can find me here: bairnsidhe.tumblr.com 
> 
> Teaser:  
> *  
> *  
> *  
> Nori, on the other hand was pleased to be away from Bofur’s flirting. For a craft-wed Dwarf he did a lot of that.


	10. Chapter 10

Chris insisted on taking a tour of downtown Wellington, then stopping at a bistro for lunch.  Chis ordered a chef’s salad; Meg got her usual Reuben sandwich.  Both of them knew what they were ordering, but the Dwarves had very different experiences picking.  Kili got an order of popcorn shrimp which were good, but not his personal favorite, and Bofur was quite happy with his rib-eye steak, dripping blue cheese butter and accompanied by steak fries.  He’d never had blue cheese before and while at first they’d all eyed the substance with suspicion, after a hesitant bite, he’d insisted the others try it too.  The resulting mmm’s convinced Chris to find a book on how blue cheese is made to take back with her.  Nori had ordered something he’d never had before either, pasta.  The little tubes were like nothing he’d had before and the rich red wine and beef sauce was delicious.

After the bistro, Meg insisted on taking the Dwarves to the mall as Chris had requested earlier.  The three Dwarves were at first dismissive.  How could it be that different than the great Market Hall back home?  Then they saw the bright, precise pictures in giant, super clear glass windows in the shops.  And the smells and the sounds of the carousel and the masses of Big Folk.  Both Meg and Chris were fairly petite, but some of these big folk were the size of Beorn, it seemed.  Kili grabbed Chris’s hand again as an Elven-like woman approached him asking if he had sore feet.

“I see no reason that’s your business, milady,” Kili said in a highly affronted tone, sounding more like offended royalty than was really wise in this world.

“Killian, leave the poor saleslady be,” Chris reprimanded him.  After they got further away from the shoe-insert kiosk, she explained that it was just like the market stalls where owners shouted the value of their wares to all with ears.  Hard sell was common anywhere.

Bofur struck up a conversation with Meg about the jewelry they saw in one store window, explaining the mining side of gem selection, and listening to her tell him about how costumers try to match the aesthetics of the work with the accessories they chose.  They even went in one of the stores Meg liked that had good quality work.  Bofur was impressed by the detail until he touched one of the ear baubles and had to shake out his hand.

“Blood and shale, what is that!”

Meg flipped the earring up to read the back.

“Cubic Zirconia set in silver. Why?”

“It has no feel like any stone I’ve ever touched.  It buzzes, like…like magic.”

“It’s artificial.  Well the CZ’s are.  We make them to use instead of diamonds because diamonds are rare and there are a lot of ethical issues involved in the industry.”

“You make, actually create from nothing, gems like diamonds?”

“Well there are ingredients, but yes.  We can even make them in cool colors, like these over here.”  Meg pointed to a rack of flashy, brightly colored statement rings.

“That’s something I never thought I’d see, gemstones that’re made, and not mined.  What’s next?  Mithril conjured up from moonbeams?”

“We actually don’t have mithril here.  That’s your wheelhouse.”

“Well at least that’s something.  Although I’ve never mined a mithril vein meself.  I had a great uncle once that liked to say he did, but of course that was waste-wash.”

They continued happily discussing this and that, not noticing that Nori had slipped away from them.  Nori, on the other hand was pleased to be away from Bofur’s flirting.  For a craft-wed Dwarf he did a lot of that.  It seemed dishonorable to flirt with the Lady Meg without clearly woven craft-wed braids, or beads, or any way of showing that it was all just fun.  But the miner never wore any such things, causing much confusion.

Nori found a stationary store and spent some time marveling at the thin, fine paper and the brightly colored envelopes.  He let the saleslady talk at him about rag content and weights and grain, but after a while his eyes slid to a rack of metal tubes.  The saleswoman (and he really ought to be thinking of her by her name, printed on a brass badge) was clearly good at her craft, as she caught the glance and began extoling the virtues of their pens.  From what Nori could tell, they were replacements for quills and held the ink inside them, eliminating the need for inkwells and time mixing the powders with water or oil.  Susan, for that was the name printed on her name plaque, offered him a chance to try them.  Although Ori was the scribe of the family, Nori knew quality craftsmanship when he saw it.  The metal tube was tipped with a fine nib that left an even, smooth trail of ink, with no spotting.  The green of the pen he was using was precisely that of the first leaves of spring.  She offered him a Durin blue pen next, and he drew the mark of the king in swift, sure strokes.  Then, pleased with his obvious delight, she reached behind a counter and pulled out a set in gold, silver, and copper. He cautiously took the copper pen and drew the sign of the King’s Spymaster beside the mark of Thorin.

She offered to write down the names of the pens he had tried and her name, in case he returned to the shop later.  He gratefully took the rectangle of stiff paper and tucked it in beside his freshly and illegally made card of half-truths.  He wandered further, getting used to the sounds and smells of this new market hall.  The homey scent of tea called him to a store where a tall Man the color of oiled bronze offered him little cups of tea.  He went through about six before admitting he was only there because of his brother.  The Man directed him to a wooden box containing a dozen round tins with bright labels.  He called it the Tea of the Month Collection, which Nori thought odd, as there were thirteen moons in a year, but he said nothing.  Nori asked if he could have the name of the box of teas written down, but instead received a small booklet of shiny pages and the Man circled one picture and a paragraph of neat, orderly writing with a chunkier pen than the ones Nori had used in the other shop.

The others caught up to him as he eyed the knives displayed in the window of a shop.  He’d found gifts for his brothers, but nothing for Dwalin.  At least nothing special to this world.

“You miss him” Lady Chris said lowly, proving yet again her uncanny knack for knowing.

“Saw ‘im last night.  See him again soon.”

“Yes, but you still miss him.  There’s no shame in that.” She eyed the window.  “Don’t get him a weapon.  Dwarrow made is better anyway.  Try the bookstore.”

“Ye realize yer talkin’ ‘bout Dwalin, lass,” Bofur pointed out.  Nori would have punched him but he knew Dwalin didn’t look a scholar and capitalized on the assumptions of others.

“I’ll find something with pictures.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fili has significantly more game than his brother, Dwarrowdams get shite done, and the Lay of the Lady of Lukhudel.

Kjomii thought of herself as a good Dwarf.  She paid her Guild dues, she crafted with all her ability, she upheld laws and traditions.  None of that changed the fact that when she heard of the hospital disaster she felt grateful that it hadn’t been her Prince that died.  Which was ridiculous of course, Prince Kili was as much Erebor’s Prince as Fili, even if she’d never met the darker brother.  And when did Crown Prince Fili become just plain Fili?  And why was she mentally using personal possessives?

Despite her inner turmoil over the unanswerable questions, she still smiled when Fili entered her shop.  It was a sadder smile than she usually offered, and her gray dress marked her mourning, but it couldn’t compare to what her Prince must feel.

“Craftsmaster Kjomii,” Fili greeted her.

“Crown Prince, how may I assist you?”

“I am not here as a Prince today.  And I do require assistance.  My…my brother and my friends and the one who would be my sister…they are gone.  They are taken far from me by people who thought my future sister not Dam enough for a Durin.  I know better.  She was my baby brother’s One, his kurdinh, she yelled at Ringwraiths and treated with Elves for his sake and she was a more honorable warrior than the ones who…”

“It’s a blow to the whole Kingdom Fili.  Lady Chris was different but it was a _good_ different.  My cousin takes her fight classes, says the Lady makes her feel like a real warrior.  Took, I suppose.  Without her, Katla might not…” a sob blocked Kjomii’s voice.

“We’ll honor them.  Katla will be a Guard.  I swear it on the Line of Durin.  But I need to let people know that this, this _hatred_ has to stop.  We need that good sort of different.  Need it far more than bad that is the same bad as always.  A known evil is still an evil.  How do I do that though?”

“We show them.  We make different so beautiful and strong and popular that nobody will dare do this again.  Did the Lady favor a certain gem or style?  I can craft exclusively in the Lady’s style.  Too many people have seen my work on your mother for my crafts not to start a trend.”

“That is a good plan.  I knew you would solve this well.  She likes plain things best.  She hates almost all the more expensive gems aside from opals and pearls.  She liked bright silver and semi-precious stones more than gold, which she hates similarly to diamonds.  She admired natural forms, and took well to blue and white although that may be fondness for the first court dress my brother bought her.”

“Opal and pearls?  Most of those tastes are so plain but those are pricey.”

“She said once that pearls are more common where she grew up, she may not have known their scarcity here.  And the opals…she said the fire in them was like the light.  Like Lukhudel.”

“The stories describe mithril and moonlight.  They make no mention of opals.”

“Apparently it’s a touch different for the ones affected.  She said it was like she and Kili were surrounded by the fires of an opal, all else blocked out by the shifting lights.”

“I could craft a heart of silver with two seed pearls fixed at the center and surround it with opals; it would serve as a symbol of Lukhudel.  And they declared in the forest, a tree of twist-hammered copper with tear-pearls dangling from the limbs.  Both could be broaches, and a necklace of silver leaves and hair clips shaped as branches.  A new line, inspired by the Lady.”

“ _Beautiful_.”  She didn’t quite think he just meant her designs.  “And she would be honored I know.  _I_ am honored you would do such.”

“You are my Prince, Fili, but you are also my friend, if I may be so bold.  There is very little I would not do for friends.”

“You may be as bold as you wish Craftsmaster Kjomii.  I should like _very_ much to have your friendship.”

“You have it.  I’ll speak to some others I know about popularizing the preferences of the Lady.  You’ll see, soon Dams won’t give the _time of day_ to anyone who disliked her.  And where the Dams go, so go Dwarves.  We have more power than most suspect.”

“I know that truth well.  To quote my sister, ‘the man who says a thing cannot be done should by the Maker get out of the way of the woman _doing_ it’."

“The Lady is wise.”

“As are you.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Kjomii did not lie.  Soon the arms and fingers and necks of the highest class Dams were adorned solely in opals, pearls, silver and natural images.  Merchant Dams made good use of the sudden popularity in less expensive tastes to show off peridots and garnets like one would emeralds and rubies.  Stone gray, the color of mourning, was still worn, but bands of embroidered white vines made their way onto hems and sleeves and necklines.  Deep blue and shimmering silver depicted eternally interlocking hearts on many court dresses.

The Dwarves took note of these trends and followed suit.  Gold beads were replaced with silver that no-one thought they’d wear again after the retaking of Erebor.  Mourning braids now held blue, silver, copper and brown cords.  The first time Dwalin saw his One’s color in another’s hair he almost killed the Dwarf until he saw the pattern.  Within a week it became pitifully easy to pin down the ones who hated Chris by the absence of silver.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The first time the new song was sung Saksi was in the corner of the tavern where it happened.  The minstrel tuned his harp and sang, at first with fingers still then added more notes with the harp.

My song for you this evening, it's bound to make you sad

Tis the dyin’ of a Lady and her happy, handsome lad

Her hair it was copper curls her laughter like a silver bell

And for naught but her blood, she and her Prince fell

Lady of Light, Lady of Laughter, Lady Lost to us

 

The Lady came from far away, her history was kings

But she eschewed riches and the power money brings

She came unto the Mountain, said she was just a cook

Looked into our Prince’s eyes and read him like a book

Lady of Light, Lady of Laughter, Lady Lost to us

 

The Lady saw the pain of Dwarves both great and small

And to ease the pain, in her love she would give her all

The Prince he saw her grace as she put aside her pride

And swore none could make him love but that she be his bride

Lady of Light, Lady of Laughter, Lady Lost to us

 

As gentle as a nesting dove and as strong as Dwarven stone

The Lady asked for nothing as she gave arts we’d never known

To all who asked she was teacher and student, sister and friend

No matter the weight Our Lady never broke, she would only bend

Lady of Light, Lady of Laughter, Lady Lost to us

 

She sang of fire, kinship and loss, and no heart was unmoved

As every last barrier twixt us and her soul she deftly removed

And the last notes faded away, a question she asked that day

How would Our Lady ever find her way?

Lady of Light, Lady of Laughter, Lady Lost to us

 

Her way lay in forests, her way lay in danger, that’s plain

Her path took her to Elves and a foe that could not be slain

Battle came to her and her heart brought her to the fight

For her home, for her friends, and the light of all light

Lady of Light, Lady of Laughter, Lady Lost to us

 

She declared there on the field of darkness and death

She would love our Prince to her dying breath

Nine shadows, the nine hands of the Enemy, fled,

For her love was so fierce that it scared the dead

Lady of Light, Lady of Laughter, Lady Lost to us

 

But her story does not end there in that light

And that is why we weep for her tonight

So kind and wise and noble she proved

For us and her love mountains she’d move

Lady of Light, Lady of Laughter, Lady Lost to us

 

But her light was scorned by those less wise

And a terrible, dishonorable plot was devised

Claiming the Lady and her sweet loving Prince

And never the laugh of a bell sounded since

Lady of Light, Lady of Laughter, Lady Lost to us

 

Daughter of Men, her blood noble and strong

I give to her this, not enough, only one final song

Son of Durin, our Prince, so young taken from life

In the Halls of the Maker, may you take her to wife

Lady of Light, Lady of Laughter, Lady Lost to us now

 

Dwarves cried all through the bar, and Saksi took note of those who didn’t.  He also didn’t stop the fight that ensued when one Dwarf refused to toast to Lady Chris.  If he still gambled, he’d place money on half the mountain hunting down the killers themselves by the next moon.  Although it wouldn’t be much of a gamble considering the muttering of a few off duty guards with some civilians he knew cared for the Lady.  A good day's work.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which quite a lot happens, Chris decides to milk the legend for what it was meant for, one wedding happens and a break is caught
> 
> Also known as the chapter that kicked my butt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank yous are owed to many people for this. I don't know how I managed to miss it all, but I haven't been dedicating to my commenters and kudo-leavers. So if you ever left feedback, this one's for you.
> 
> Also, sorry about the fragmented nature of the chapter, it insisted on bouncing around. Everything happens chronologically, except the wedding and the last bit happen at about the same time. And I didn't go into huge detail on the wedding because I'm assuming we can all remember the basic wedding vows used on our planet by like one third the population, and I'm saving my ceremony chapter quota for the Dwarven stuff.
> 
> Slight trigger warning for police brutality off screen, mentions of death, and vague reference to unsavory sex stuff.

Each new day in the strange land that Chris hailed from started similarly.  Kili would awaken in her arms, untangle himself and attend his morning needs, and join the other early risers.  Then when his beloved woke, she would create wonders in her semi-magical kitchen and over breakfast Nori would tell them what Dwalin had relayed to him of Erebor.  Seeing as things were moving well there, Lady Meg slowly started giving them clothing that blended the two world’s traditions, in case they should be brought back suddenly.  Nori kept a leather pack with his gifts for his brothers and One with him at all times, and though few knew what was in it, Chris kept a large canvas bag near her as well. 

Kili had seen some books of the magic paintings, a few of the strange devices called electronics, and cords covered in a smooth coating go in, but didn’t ask or comment.  It wasn’t his decision if his beloved wanted things from her birth world.  Although the neatly printed books did confuse him, they seemed to be mostly factual from the titles, and her tastes obviously ran towards the fictional given the walls in the main room.  The discovery that books here were widely available and printed in mass quantities not hand transcribed had made him laugh, because no wonder some of her best friends were scribes, the books in Erebor must be both novel and familiar.

“You’ll want to prepare a grand entrance,” Nori told them over French toast stuffed with a sunset-colored cream that tasted like the oranges they’d enjoyed the afternoon before.  “Dwalin says you’re becoming rather mythical.  Returning now will be a bit like Durin the Deathless showing up.  He suggested singing.  I agree; you look different when you sing.”

“I do?” asked Chris.

“Yup,” said Meg around a mouthful of potatoes.  “You lose yourself in it.  You don’t worry or pick at things when you sing, you just….”

“She touches stone with song,” finished Bofur.

“What?” chorused both women.

“It means you engender feelings in everybody.  No one can simply not-listen or not-care.  Not if you also care, they can if you aren’t meaning it.  It’s a powerful gift,” Kili explained.  “We should have used it sooner.”

“To many accusations of false elf-magic,” Nori grunted.  “But we can now if she’s all mythicized and what not.  But we need the right song.”

“I’ve got one,” Meg said, tapping her phone as a song poured out.  “Change a few words and it’s what you need.”

“That’s perfect.  I’ll start doing the edits after breakfast.”  Chris paused.  “How mythical are we talking?”

“You’ll be returning from the dead.  The Race of Men just doesn’t do that.  You could claim pretty much any powers.”

“So if I triggered the accompaniment on speakers hidden in my bag before singing…”

“They’ll give you a title like Songbird.”

“Title as in noble/official or title like Oakenshield?”

“Second one.  Changes how you introduce yourself.  You’d be Princess Christiana, first of the name, called Songbird, or whatever they choose.”

“I can live with that.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“So, I think the Princess is ready.  She’s hardy and flexible in these matters.”  Nori snuggled deeper into Dwalin.  “I’m worried about her family.  She wants to say goodbye, but she can’t tell them where she travels or how or even exactly when.”

“Aye, that’s a puzzle.  You’re good at those.   I’m worried about her kin too, but not the ones there.”

“What do you mean?  All her kin is here, unless you count Roda and you said she’s taken to rumor control well.”

“Our rumors may hae been a wee bit too realistic.  The Dunedain sent a rider according to someone your second calls ‘The Crows’, seems a bit too coincidental for the taste of this guard.”

“If the crows say it, it’s true.   Not big on lies, them.  I’ll tell her to prepare for it.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“You may want to prepare for something, my Princess.”

“What did you do this time Nori?”

“It wounds me you think it was my doing.  It was, but am I that predictable?”

“Only to the ones that love you.  What is it?”

“I may have started a trend of believing that you’re a Dunedain Princess.”

“That’s smart.  Like the fake IDs for you guys here.  I can pass as one of the Dunedain, I know enough of their history.”

“Dunedain Princess, no comma.  It added to the story and gave a reason to come to us as a cook when you’re clearly more.  Royalty in hiding is good rumor fodder.  Only it got taken too far, and your ‘kinsmen’ now ride to Erebor.”

“I’m going to have to kick them out, aren’t I?”

“It’s like you read minds.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“I have to, it’s my mother.”

“Will she try to stop you coming home?”

“Of course not Kili.  And she’s friends with a county judge, he can fast-track the papers.”

“Alright.”

Chris dialed a number.  “Mom.  It’s Chris.  Sorry about vanishing but with luck it’ll happen again.  Yeah, some strange things occurred.  Good strange.  I’m engaged for one.  Yes.  I’m aware.  No, his mother called dibs on the big wedding and I’m not upsetting her.  You can have a small civil service.  Yes, I’ll wear grandma’s dress.”  She rolled her eyes.  “I do love him, Mom.  And I’ve had offers from most of his extended family to castrate or kill him if he breaks my heart.  I’m _happy_. Love you too.”

“She’ll be here tomorrow.  Let’s get married.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The wedding was small, held in the courtroom of Mrs. O’Malley’s friend.  Chris wore an ivory sheath with a demure sweetheart neckline and a plunge in the back under her grandmother’s long sleeved and high necked antique lace over dress with stars and flowers worked into it.  The lace itself was dense enough she could wear a bra, but it still showed the skin that was on display from the more modern underdress.  Kili wore a suit Meg had tailored to him, and Nori was his best man, in place of Fili.  Meg was of course Maid of Honor, and Bofur carried the rings, despite being fully grown.

Mrs. O’Malley fully supported her daughter once the situation had been explained and she met Kili.  One good glare and her friend the judge overlooked the lack of any real identification.

The ring Chris picked for Kili was heavy platinum, in absence of mithril, worked with her personal knot work design as invented by Roda, a series of interlocking hearts formed by a single line that connected into a Mobius of knots.  Inside, she carefully engraved her chosen inner-name in Cirth using a borrowed engraver.  Everything else she had done professionally, but that was supposed to be private.

Kili’s ring for her was silver, a modified Claddagh design, with six tiny pearls surrounding a heart of moonstone and fused to a second ring, since he now knew it was customary for the woman to wear two.  The second ring had two arrowheads forming a point on the other side, to point away from her.  His small offer of protection.

After the wedding, they drank and ate at a restaurant Chris knew the head chef of until the wee hours, and then retired to bed.  Not to do normal wedding night activity, they still had one more wedding.  But waking to see his ring on her hand brightened Kili’s morning.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The last of the band that planned the attack, save only their leader, the scarred Dwarf, whimpered under Oin’s less-than-gentle hands.

“Do you have to do it this way?” he groused at Dwalin.

“Technically, I did nothing.  I got to his cell and he was like this and confessing.”

“You know as well as I do how that happened.”

“I got my information and a bit of the blood-price paid, I’m not as concerned with the how.”

“Not what I meant, can’t he just conveniently _die_ before I have to treat someone who blew apart my hospital.”

The Dwarf in question jerked at the casual manner of the healer and the guard captain.

“If it helps, I think he’s told us all he knows and you do keep poisons in your bag.  The medicinal ones that kill slow.”

“No, no I also know our leader’s name; I’ll tell you, just don’t kill me!”

“You’re a traitor and slated to die anyway.  But it’ll be a fast and painless official execution by our laws if you talk.  If you don’t, well, Oin’s good but even the best healers can lose a patient.”

“His name is Nithi, son of Dablni.  You’ll find him in the Gembox any time after thirteenth bell.”

“Dablni?  The apothecary?  She’s his mother?”

“She has nothing to do with it.  She gave him life, not his purpose, although he thinks it.  He was enadu a’laj, he thinks the shame came from one of Men.  That is why he distrusts.”

“Alright.  Oin, knock him out, we can’t have him tipping our hands.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you know, enadu a’laj means 'born of shame'. Since for Dwarves sex=marriage, if the do gets done and both parties agree that was dumb and shouldn't have happened, they just sort of agree that it didn't. The lady-dwarf can go into seclusion and give any resultant baby up that's it. But if one party doesn't want the bond and the other either does and threatens to out the marriage, or in cases of rape, a baby is said to be born of shame. Due to low fertility aborting a pregnancy is unheard of, just for preservation of the race. In this case nada is known about what went down, so it may not be non or dub-con, it could have just been a bad choice early in life that got interpreted badly.
> 
> The Gembox is one of those pleasure dens mentioned back in chapter 2, and the thirteenth bell is about 7 pm. First bell is sunrise which is normally 6 am, and then each bell is an hour.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's go home! What could go wrong? We're only resurrecting at our murderer's trial and pulling off a magical musical number.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to tigrislillium for her insightful comments on the ways in which Dwarves are not perfect. I didn't want them to be, because Culture-Sue, but I'm glad someone picked up on it.
> 
> We've completed the first arc, and are heading into the second. I'm planning three arcs, so our estimated chaper count is near 40, so prep for a wild ride.
> 
> The song Chris sings is a manipulated version of this https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TF5oqpYvxyc

“Are we sure?” Chris asked, as she hiked out to the ridge, wearing doeskin pants and a tougher leather bodice that would definitely have been marked in the city.  Her duffel was slung over her shoulder, and a smaller pouch with a hidden Mp3 player and speakers ready to play her ‘miraculous’ music on her right hip by her hand.  She had practiced selecting the right songs by touch, but it was still a nervous tic to reach in and feel the buttons to reassure herself.

“Aye, Dwalin said they’d caught them all, or will have done by now.”

“Ah, home,” breathed Bofur.  “Sad to see the last of ye, Lady Meg.”

“You too, Sugah.  Ah’ll miss y’all so much.  You have that bag Ah gave yah?”

“Yes, what’s in it?”

“Five pounds assorted artificially dyed or made stones.  Call ‘em magic if it’s easier, but Ah wanted you to have mah collection of odds and cast-offs.  Ah won’t use ‘em, and you needed a souvenir.  Everybody else bought things.”

“I don’t often buy what I don’t need.  Grew up in what you might call financial instability.  Thank you for the gift.”

“We’re here!” Kili shouted back.  “You might want to stand clear unless you’re coming with us.”

“Thanks but no.  Ah like my internet too much.”  Kili could understand, after spending a day on Wikipedia and watching the near instant communication of a chat room.  Also the ready access to exotic foods, and those shower things, he was going to miss a lot from this realm.  Meg stepped back a bit from the hillock the four stood on.

“Ready?” Kili asked, and Chris took his hand in response.

“Let’s go home.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The crowd in the Hall of Kings was huge, as befit a mass trial for treason and murder.  The hushed gathering awaited the verdict.  Thorin stood tall and proud, he’d been warned what might happen here today.

“For conspiracy against the Crown, the verdict is clearly guilty.  For conspiracy to commit murder and do harm, it is also guilty.  For the destruction of a house of healing, guilty.  For these alone I could demand your heads.  But there is also the charge of murder, of two members of the Royal Family and the two responsible for ensuring no more died.”

The crowd grumbled its displeasure at the culprits, bound and on their knees before the dais.  Some rather creative threats got muttered, and Nori’s minions were there to take note of who said what and how they said it.  The clear opinion was that Lady Chris and Prince Kili and their would-be saviors would be a very good trade for the Dwarves on trial.

“All this, for no more than a personal grudge against the entire Race of Men for the alleged act of one.  Who is already dead by now, you’re two hundred,” Thorin resisted the urge to roll his eyes and it came out a glare that had Nithi shaking like one of those yellow leaves from the trees on the mountain that the Elven delegation liked so much.  “I would hear from my people, do you think this valid reason?  Do you see sane logic in this?  Do you condone such hatred and the insularity that breeds it?”

A mighty yell of negation came up from the crowd.

“Then for murder, the verdict is-” a light at the back of the Hall interrupted him, blinding and forcing all to look away, until it faded, leaving four familiar figures in far humbler clothes than befit their status.

“Hail, Thorin, King Under the Mountain!” cried out a female voice.

“It’s the Lady.”

“Her specter from beyond the void come to punish her killers!”

“Don’t be ridiculous," she huffed at the closest screamer.  "I’m not dead.  I _can’t_ have killers if I’m _not dead_.  None of us are dead, although not for lack of effort.”  She strode out into the Hall and Dwarves parted before her in reverence and no small measure of fear.  Their Lady was gentle, but she could also be scary when intent on something and you were in her way.  And Chris was nothing if not intent at the moment.

“Princess.  I suppose I can no longer render a guilty verdict for your murders,” Thorin stated calmly.

“Not so much.  It's a Habeas Corpus thing.  Attempted murder, only because they failed.  Everything else though….”

“They have been judged.  Their sentences will be carried out.”  He gestured for guards to take away the stunned conspirators.  “I am glad they failed.”

“Someone out there likes us,” Chris said cryptically, reminding him they were not Uncle and Niece right now, they were King and Princess and some things could not be publicly known.

“You look... different.  Did your time elsewhere put you through privations?  You normally dress with more....”

"Say another word, and I swear..."muttered Dis.

“About that…”  Music began playing from no identifiable source.  She turned to the people gathered.  Her people.

“I suppose that I look different without the robes and crown  
I come as I did once before, with no riches, no renown  
For here I am no ruler, I am just the child of a man  
And I only ask you take me, if you’ll take me as I am  
  
I'm not looking for perfection, cause perfect’s what I ain’t” 

She grinned at Bofur, then turned to Kili, taking his hands and singing directly to him. 

“I'm not looking for a pretty bird to put in some restraint  
The only thing I want is that you love me, if you can  
And I only ask you take me, if you take me as I am”

Turning back to her people, she held a hand to a Dwarf she knew to be one of Nori’s.  She wasn't too keen on Chris, due to perfectly understandable trust issues Chris never held against the Dam.  
“I offer you a look inside, I offer you that trust”

Next she looked at a grizzled warrior she’d seen scoff at her practices in the salle.  She knew she'd never be as strong as him, but that was alright.  She didn't set her goals on others, but on herself.  Even if he laughed when she fell, she'd like to have him _beside_ her in a fight, rather than opposing her.  
“I need your strength to help me fight the battles that I must”

Turning back again to Kili, she smiled as she remembered the fiery lights dancing around them.  
“I need you to remind me of the light we bear within  
That there's more to life than struggle and the things we seek to win”

Again she faced her people.  
“Don't take me out of duty, don't take me out of pride  
Just take me if the girl you see is one you'd stand beside  
I'm offering an open heart, you hold it in your hand  
And I only ask you take me, just take me as I am  
  
Can you take me as I am?”

Silence reigned as the last notes faded.  Then a little girl ran up pushing past the adults to wrap her arms around Chris’s knees.

“You’re back, you’re back,” the girl sobbed into Chris’s thigh.  “I thought you were gone all away, an everybody was real sad and missed you an the Prince an funny Lord Bofur and Lord Nori who gives us sweets sometimes.  They wrote a sad song for you.  Lots of people sang it.”

“Well let’s give that song a happier ending, eh little one?  I don't like sad stories much.  I’m rather more fond of stories that end “And they lived happily ever after... to the end of their days.”  What do you say?”

The little girl just nodded and held tighter.

“If all dwarrowlings are this strong, we are investing in bruise cream,” Chris said to Kili.  “Lots and lots of bruise cream.”

“She’ll learn her strength soon enough,” he assured her.  “There are only a few years where the strength outgrows the body.”

“You underestimate how many kids I want,” she whispered with a grin that spoke rather clearly of _making_ said children.  Satisfied that her Princess was not going to vanish, the girl ran back to her mother.

“I think that was your answer, Princess,” said Nori.

A loud commotion interrupted her response as the door guards tried to bar entrance to some ragged but dangerous looking men.

“Oh crap,” Chris swore.  “It’s the Dunedain.  I’d rather face a cave troll; can we trade them for a cave troll?”

“Where would you make that trade?” wondered Dwalin, beside Nori.

“Moria.  They have a cave troll,” she said with a badly disguised grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on tumblr, same name.
> 
> Also have recently discovered tool to help me draw and am willing to do pictures of any character. Tell me who you want to see.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first confrontation with the Dunedain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For DarknessEvernight13 for the comment.

The whole of the Hall was chaos, Dwarves shouting, the Men shouting, both looking liable to break into violence at any time.  The Guards at the entrance to the Hall had been pushed back, quite literally, as the larger Men used their height and reach to shove at the Dwarves.  Chris pushed her way to the weakening shield wall.

“Get the children out!” she cried loudly.  “Side halls, anybody who knows them, grab a child and one parent minimum and get them out of here.  Nori, I want you getting your people fucking organized; they are our best hope of getting civilians to safety.  So stop them acting like headless chickens and make them do their Valar-be-damned _jobs_!”

“On it Princess, Saksi, evacuation protocols!  Don’t stand there gawping you louts, you heard the Lady, MOVE IT!”

“Dwalin, put all available guards not assigned targets backing the shield wall.  Use recruits if you have to, we lose no more fucking ground, am I understood?”

“Yes Lady.  Seventeenth to the front, back the wall!  Recruits fall IN!!”

Chris’s students and many others appeared in front of them.

“You three, on Kili, he’s slippery and reckless but he won’t let you down if it comes to arrows and axes.  Give him a bow.  You three on the Lady, everybody else to the wall.”

“I want Katla,” Chris demanded.

“Alright, Katla, switch with Nagan.  You stay with her, understood?”

“Yes sir,” she said in a disgruntled voice.

“Don’t mistake this for special treatment or gentle handling,” Dwalin said.  “She’s always in the thick of it, and this is kin.  Kin-calls are the worst part of a guard’s life.  They get bloody and messy real fast.”

“I want you with me because you’re one of my best, Katla.  Let’s go tell my family to shove their doubtlessly stupid ideas someplace uncomfortable and not proper for me to mention.  Balin is going to be mad....”

Chris and her guards pushed through the rapidly dwindling crowd.  Nori’s people were obviously competent when not reeling from too much shock, none of the remaining Dwarves were under-age and all the Dams still in the Hall were in gender ambiguous clothing.  If Chris didn’t now know the braids indicating gender, she’d have thought them male.

“I am Thalbarad, son of Halbrethil, called Hawkwing.  I am chieftain of the Dunedain and I have knowledge that a descendant of Elendil is held here,” called a burly man with a rather impressive scar on his face.

“You’re knowledge is shite, then.  Nobody’s holding any heir of any kingdom past or present,” Chris informed him coldly.  Then she glanced back at her fiancé.  “Well, technically, I think my intended’s guard may have a hand on him, and he’s in the Royal line, but that’s just common sense, because Kili doesn’t actually have any of that, and needs to be held back sometimes.”

“HEY!”

“Love you too, Mamarralun.  Also, one word, Spider.”

“Flattery buys you little, Kurdinh, and my word is Nazgul.”

“Point conceded.  We are _both_ reckless lil’ shits that are going to drive Dwalin into an early grave.  He should get a raise.”

“What are you speaking of?  I understand little of what you say, though most of the words make sense independantly,” Thalbarad looked confusedly at Chris, easily identifiable as a woman, not a Dwarf, female or otherwise.  “Are you the heir of Elendil?”

“Look closer to home for the one you seek.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My betrothed is a bit of a prophet.  Sometimes it doesn’t make sense until she’s telling Ring Wraiths to piss off and leave her friends alone.”

“She WHAT?” chorused all the Men.

“Will you _stop_ telling that story to everyone, Kili?” Chris asked, exasperated.

“No.  My future wife is the bravest and the best and the strongest and the prettiest and everybody is going to know it if I have any say in the matter,” he countered smugly.

“And my future husband is lucky he’s cute.  It was one time, Kili, _one time_.  Good Valar, you get pissy with undead kings _once_ and you never hear the end of it.  Yes, I told the nine to fuck off to Mordor where they belong and leave my friends, family and love out of their stupid little world domination game.  They’re dead, their time is over and they needed to move the fuck on.”

“You are definitely related to Arathorn,” said a man to her right.  “Nobody else can swear like that and still sound noble.”

“That is nice of you to say but not relevant, why are you here, doing violence in Our halls, during a sensitive matter for which the mountain was closed?  It was closed, Dwalin?”

“Yes, Lady.  For a matter like this, of course.”

“Then I believe you gents have some ‘splaining to do.”  She glared at them.

“We had word an heir of Elendil was being held by Dwarves here.  We thought to free or ransom you from durance vile,” answered Thalbarad.

“Oh, so many, many things wrong with _all_ of that.”  Chris facepalmed.  “Where do I even start?”

“Normally I say beginning to end, but you might want to do it the reverse,” offered Nori.

“Point,” Chris said.  “So, to begin with, there is no ‘durance vile’.  By definition that would mean I don’t want to be here, and I just worked very hard to get back here and let me tell you that was not a walk in the fucking park.  Valar are _annoying as all balls_ when they set you tasks to do.  I mean I’m grateful for the introduction to Kili but that does not mean I’m going to be Aulë’s little errand girl _forever_.”  She let the implications settle in.  “Two, you could not buy me out of this mountain for all the money in the world.  That’s what you meant by ‘ransom me’ isn’t it?”  Some nods.  “Yeah, not happening.  Let me show you.  Katla, what is my worth?”

“My Lady?”

“My worth, monetarily speaking.  How much would someone have to pay to get you to give me to them?”

“HA!  Lady, you are worth more than all three Simarils, the Arkenstone, and every shard of mithril in existence combined.  They’d have to kill me to get to you.”  That last was said with a dirty look at the assembled Dunedain.

“One opinion, how about a second.  Nori, you used to be very disreputable, I’m sure you know the going market value on heirs of long dead kings.  Give me an estimate.”

“Princess, there are two sides to every transaction.  And while I don’t doubt these Men would offer a pretty price, that’s just the buyer.  They’d never find anybody in this mountain that’d sell.  We just _executed_ the last Dwarves to attempt you harm at the command of practically every Dwarf here.  They screamed for the blood of those who’d do you harm.  Even a Dwarf without honor would not risk that.”

“I trust his opinion, but let’s have a third.  My King, if you would be so kind as to tell them the price they would have to pay to ‘ransom’ me?”

“As you do not wish to leave,” said Thorin coolly, “and you are the betrothed of my second sister-son, you would never be ransomed.  We would never _take money_ to _force out_ one who _came to us_ for _shelter_ and then _defended us_ at every turn, _aiding us_ even when you did not need to, becoming beloved by not just your One, Prince Kili, but by many.  The price they would pay would be their **lives,** no more and certainly no less.”

“So that’ll be a 'no' on the ransoming plan.  And you can’t free someone who is already free.  It’s redundant.  I could leave whenever I chose.  I just don’t want to.  I’m happy here.  Speaking of, it isn’t ‘held by Dwarves’ plural, it’s just the one Dwarf who I _let_ hold me.  I’m kinky, but I’m not  that kinky.  Said Dwarf would be my betrothed.  He’s the taller, cuter, one with the…Kili, put the bow down.  You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“He wants to take you,” Kili said, voice ragged.  “He wants to make you leave me.  I can’t lose you, my light, it’d kill me.  You are my heart, and he wants to steal you away.”

“I’d fucking like to see him bloody well try it, emphasis on the _blood_ and none of it mine, all of it from the one who done fucked up by grabbing at me.  I’ll drop the man who tries it. Now put down the bow, you egg, you’re stretching out the string.”  Sighing, she turned back to the assembled Dunedain.  “Yes, the great overprotective idiot over there is the one I chose.  He’s lucky he’s hotter than Mount Doom.  If I wasn’t planning on climbing him like a tree after our wedding I might just clock him.  But you simply don’t damage something that pretty.”

“You’re marrying a Dwarf?” asked Thalbarad, somewhat shocked, as though this had not been mentioned several times.  Chris gave him a look that clearly communicated her estimation of his intelligence and powers of observation.

“Oh like Beren never chased an Elf.  He’s a perfectly reasonable choice.  He’s nice, funny, he’s not entirely hopeless at judo, and he is, as previously mentioned, _super_ attractive.  Downside is observing correct courtship.  By the way,” she said to no one in particular among the Dwarves, “someone tell Lady Dis, I want to move the wedding date up.  Pent up desires are no fun and I’m not going to live to 300.  I want to have beard burn in inappropriate places before Durin’s Day or so help me…”

“Please stop talking.  Good Eru, it’s worse than Arathorn mooning over Gilraen,” moaned the second man, the one who compared her to Arathorn earlier.

“I’ll stop it if you turn around and go home.  You have who you need, he just isn’t ready.  The time is not right.  But the prophesy will come to pass.”

“Prophesy?”

“All that is gold does not glitter,  
Not all those who wander are lost;  
The old that is strong does not wither,  
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.  
  
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,  
A light from the shadows shall spring;  
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,  
The crownless again shall be king.”

“I have never heard that…”

“You have now.  Elendil’s heir will not reveal himself until the time is right.  Let it be as it must.  Let _him_ be as he must.  The crownless king, the gold that does not glitter, he of deep roots that do not wither, he must wander, although he is not lost.  His wandering will wake the fire, reveal light to the darkness, and for him a broken blade and broken honor both shall be restored.  He must wander many places and you must not stop him.”

“Where will he wander?”

“To service and betrayal and fellowship.  To forests that walk and the halls of tired kings and the fallen might of a former friend.  To the dead and the living and those between.”

“You aren’t very helpful.”

“Don’t push it buddy.  I have a punch-happy guard and a fiancé with the fastest draw you'll find outside of an Elf.  Take what you get, and then get the motherless hells outta my mountain.”

“I’d do as she says,” advised Thorin with a regal scowl.  “She’s beryl-headed when she wants to be.  You’ll never change her mind.”

“It’s why we love her,” added Katla.  “She’s a mountain mother, strong and defensive of us.”

“Damn right I am.  I claim _you_ as kin.  Not them.  Now back off, or I’ll let Katla test the wheat-sack on you.”

“Really?”  Katla grinned, almost bouncing like a child offered a treat.  “The wheat-sack, in real combat?”

“Unless you’ve been slacking, which I doubt, you little hellion, you’re ready.”

Katla looked Thalbarad in the eye.  “Give her a reason, _please_ , I’ve wanted to try that move in combat for ages,” she said with far too much glee.

“We’re coming back,” he said, clearly aiming at ominous and yet missing by a margin.

“Do it politely and we won’t have a problem.  Erebor is a friendly Kingdom when you’re polite.  When you aren’t is when we throw you down mineshafts.”

“She’s kiddin’ ye of course,” offered Bofur, “that’d encourage mine-rats.  It’d be the fish lakes, where you’d be useful.”

“Lakes aren’t scary to Men usually,” noted Nori.  “Deep dark tunnels, though…”

“Ach, just pitch ’em in the underwarren,” groused Dwalin.

“Hey, good idea,” added Kili.  “Let the Under Hall Curse take them.  All neat and clean.”

“Kili say goodbye to my cousins like a civilized being,” Chris asked. “Oh and stop _telling_ people about the curse.  It’s bad for trade.”

“Farewell, don’t let a rockslide hit you on the way out.”

“How are you even our diplomat?” she wondered aloud.

“Like Elves more than I like them,” he said bluntly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come yell at me on tumblr: http://bairnsidhe.tumblr.com/
> 
> Also, now doing art of all OC's with HeroMachine if you want to see someone.


	15. The calm after the storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fluffy domestic schmoop. Because these crazy kids deserve it for the stuff they just went through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is lagging behind so badly.
> 
> Next chapter is plotted but unwritten. Expect the Wedding in two or three chapters. (Smut promised.)

Kili’s instinct, and Bofur’s as well, was to get Chris away from the Hall in the aftermath.  Chris outright refused, and Nori was doing the unusually deferential act towards her that indicated she was playing into his plans.  Dwalin just shrugged.

“The recruits’re yours.  Tell ‘em how you want it.”

“We need to organize the treatment of any injured, firstly.”

“It’s not that bad, Lady,” protested a guard with a black eye.  “No broke bones, no cuts to fester.”

“And that new eye paint’s a fashion statement, eh?  I’m not leaving until every Dwarf on the line has been checked by healers.”

“Heh,” the guard scoffed.  “Thought they were all blowing smoke in that song, but you really care enough to stay here as long as it takes, don’t you.”

“I don’t know from smoke, I’ve never heard it, but yes, I will sit on you if that’s it takes to get you medical attention.”

The guard sang in a rough and inharmonious voice:

“The Lady saw the pain of Dwarves both great and small

And to ease the pain, in her love she would give her all

The Prince he saw her grace as she put aside her pride

And swore none could make him love but that she be his bride

As gentle as a nesting dove and as strong as dwarven stone

The Lady asked for nothing as she gave arts we’d never known

To all who asked she was teacher and student, sister and friend

No matter the weight Our Lady never broke, she would only bend”

“Good Lord,” she muttered lowly.

“Welcome to fame, my Princess,” said Nori, laughing.

After treating a large number of minor injuries and cleaning up some debris from the Dunedain’s untimely entrance, Chris pointed her troops to food and rest.  Most staggered off quickly as they could, Chris wasn’t an easy taskmistress and the damaged areas were now cleaner than before, but a few stopped to welcome her back.  Katla stayed by her side until everyone was gone.

“My Lady, a word?”

“Of course.”

“My cousin, um, she’s a jeweler, has her mastery.  She’s real smart too, like you are.  Well, uh…”

“Katla, just say it.  I won’t hold against you any fumbled words.”

“She’s really gotten…well, she speaks about the Prince.  The Crown Prince, not yours.  I think she’s close to wanting to…”

“She’d like to propose.”

“Yes.  But he’s the heir.  I don’t want her giving her heart to someone who can’t give one back.  If he needs to marry for alliance.”

“He won’t.  Firstly, the King has stated that he’s not doing that to his kin.  Secondly, should Thorin lose his everloving mind and consider it, Dis will kill him.  And if she doesn’t get to him, there are eleven Company members willing to smack some sense back in him.”

“But if he rejects the declaration…”

“ _That_ might be a worry.  Last I had the chance to speak to my future brother he seemed kinda gone on someone.”

“Oh.”

“A jeweler, actually.  A Blacklock Craftsmaster who moved here with her family,” Chris grinned.  “Name of Kjomii, but you didn’t hear that from me.” She tapped the corners of her mouth in the iglishmêk sign for secrets.

“He likes Kjomii?  Really?”

“Why do you think Dis wears so much of Kjomii’s craft?  He’s been making up excuses to go talk to her.”

“Thanks, my Lady.  This gladdens my heart.”

“Give her this warning though, Princes of Durin are great but the fame is itchy.  And Dis _will not_ stop giving her expensive clothing and accessories.  She's sneaky about it too.  Be warned.”

“I think she won’t care as long as she and her heart are together.”

“Tell you what, neither do I.”  Chris clapped her student on the arm and walked away.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

In the Royal wing, a grand reunion was taking place.  Nori sat on Dwalin’s lap, Bofur was trying and failing to scare Ori with tales of cars and freezers and huge crowds of Beorn-sized folk.  Bombur was trying not to look like he was hovering, and Bifur didn’t even care that he was obviously holding on to the miner.  Dori was sitting with Balin and trying not to cry at his brother’s return.  The rest were mingling when Chris and Kili walked in, Chris’s bag in hand.

“So, I’m aware that it’s spring, but I have presents, so merry Christmas!”

“Merry what now?” asked Oin.

“Christmas is a winter holiday in my world.  We give presents for it.”

“Hobbits do the same at Yule,” offered Ori.

“Well if there are presents involved…” said Gloin.

Chris rummaged in her bag.

“I have some peacock brocade and a book of patterns for Dori, some blank books for Ori,” she said, pulling out packages.  “Here’s a solar calculator for Gloin, it’s powered by light, and will help you with the larger or more complex math.  Some books on emergency medicine and one on how to make some of the better medicines of my world for Oin.”  The healer didn’t hesitate before opening the Bio-Chem Pharmacology textbook she handed him. 

“Here’s a recipe book for Bombur, be sure to check the stuff with the little yellow notes on them, those are things the guys enjoyed.  I wasn’t sure what to get you Bifur, but my friend Meg did.  You know how your story was famous in my world?  I bought a fan-book of art specifically celebrating you.”  He said nothing but as he stroked the picture of him wearing a flower crown surrounded by children, Chris knew she had gotten the right thing.

“I brought Balin day-planners.  You slave-driver.”  He laughed as she tossed a leather bound book and strangely wrapped stacks of smooth paper printed to be perfect for planning royal events at his head.  “Dwalin gets a copy of _The Art of War_ , by Sun Tsu.  He’s renowned for being a famous and successful war leader.  The book is advice for generals.”

“I admit I got a little stuck on a present for you, Thorin, but then I recalled you saying your neck got stiff after too long in the study.  This is a heat pack, you click these little metal bits together and it heats up so you can relax your muscles.”

“Dis, I got you, well, revenge, honestly.” Chris handed over a red wood box with a black enamel inlay of a mountain range in a Japanese style.  “That’s my jewelry box from home.  Inside are eighty four necklaces, forty two pairs of earrings, twenty six bracelets and twenty four rings.  I double-checked with Bofur, all the gems are more expensive here, or don’t even exist.  Alexandrite even changes color, which has got to be a rare trait, and you now have a fully matched set.”  Dis laughed.

“If that’s your idea of spite, lass, you’re too sweet for my reckless boy.  I’ll wear them all before the wedding, you watch.”

“Fili, I had planned on giving you this stack of dyed leathers for your work but I gave you something better before getting here.”

“What?  And how did they fix that metallic sheen on the copper hide?”

“No idea.  What I gave you was passing on the wink wink, nudge nudge, say no more, say no more to your Kjomii.  Katla was worried you’d say no and her cousin was wanting to declare, except, well nervous you’d reject her.  I told her not to worry about that.”

“That is the best present _ever_.”

“The metallic leather?” asked Chris innocently as she handed it over.

“Density doesn’t look good on you, Sister Dearest.” Fili set aside the stack before tackling her in a hug.  “Best sister ever.  I was getting a little insane trying not to break the traditions.”

“Always glad to be your wingwoman.  I got your back.”

“I also got Roda something.  I know I’ll have to wait and explain…but it didn’t feel right, not getting her something from home.”

“You don’t have to wait,” said a voice behind her.  “I was told.  I helped spread the rumors.”

“Roda!!  Here, I got you a book of children’s stories from all over.  The one your dad told on the trip to the Woodland Realm is like this one from Russia.  In the back is a map with markers for each story’s origin.  I’m from this island down here.”

“I’m glad you wanted to get me something from your home, and grateful for the book, but the best gift is having you back.  I missed my sister.”

“I missed you too.”

“Well, if we’re all in the sappy gift giving mood, I may have gotten some pens for Ori,” Nori said off-handedly.  “They store the ink in the barrel, so you don’t have to dip them and they don’t spatter.  I got several black ones, the lavender you like for your personal marks, Durin blue, and a pack of gold, silver and copper.”

“Oh, thank you Nori, these are fantastic!”

“You didn’t steal them, did you?” asked Dori.

“No.  No need.  I did a little side work for the Princess’s friend.  I got paid for that.”

“So that’s what Meg had you doing with her embroidery kit!  I wondered.”

“Eh, thread craft’s not too different than spycraft, follow the lines.  But if you doubt me, I can always give Balin your gift…”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” huffed Dori.

“Teas from around her world.  I got the big set, lots of little tins of different types, ingredients listed on the label.”

Dori’s eyes widened at the case of rare teas, he spotted a passionfruit and rosehip that intrigued him, not knowing what passionfruit was but knowing he did love rose-hip, it was just hard to get shipped to the Mountain.

“And you, my love, I got a book.  It came highly recommended, and it has pictures.”

“Oh joy,” Dwalin deadpanned.

“It’s called Gay Kama Sutra.”  He handed Dwalin the book as Chris lost it laughing.  Dwalin looked at her funny, until Nori opened it to a bookmarked page.  “That one’s my favorite.  I love how all the pictures have pretty names, like Lotus Opens to Moonlight.”

“Oh, good Lord, Nori!!”

“What?” he said with faux innocence.

“Never leave that lying about.”

“Not a chance,” grunted Dwalin.

“Well, now that whatever _that_ was is over,” said Kili, well aware of the book’s contents, “I got everyone some small things, but you know I’m bad at presents, so I got a bag of random trinkets, and you can pick what you want.”  He placed the bag of small but useful items on a table and gestured to it.  He had a good idea who’d claim what, and was pleased when the relatively cheap items met with approval.  A fight almost broke out between Gloin and Bombur over the fire-starter he’d snagged at a camping supply store, but Kili pointed out that it was the design that was important, and they could easily have another crafted.

“And, my family back there,” said Chris over the din, “sends well wishes and this.”  Pulling a large book from the bag, she opened it to a picture of Kili in his suit and Chris in the gown, smiling as they fed each other cake.  “Mum said to apologize for having a wedding without you, but she wanted to see her only child’s wedding, and she can’t come _here_.”

Dis held back tears as she paged through the scrapbook, candid shots and posed portraits and little notes from family and friends and colored paper turning the pages into works of art.

“It’s only half full,” she said.

“That’s why I brought an instant-develop camera and extra film an supplies. We’ll finish it here at home.”

“Home.  Yes, we’ll fill it out at home,” Dis said.  “And now, people will be expecting you at dinner, so let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Alright, but I really wasn’t kidding about moving up the wedding, even if we break some traditions.”

“I agree, but for differing reasons, I’m suspecting.  The Dunedain pose less of a threat if you marry.  The sooner the better.”

“That too.  We’re going to have to deal with that sooner or later.”

“Not tonight, though."  

"Agreed.  And no rings this time, I’m wearing my wedding band and I don’t want to detract.”

“Tonight, whatever you wear, you will be seen for what you are, beautiful, inside and out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are Mithril, Kudos are Gold.


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back into plot! Chris gets snarky, Thorin gets rid of a thorn in his side, and a nasty little fellow gets his comeuppance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To tigrislilium.
> 
> Also, in a round-about way to the seriously behind schedule workmen. I can't unpack until they're done, so I have nothing better to do.
> 
> Next chapter is a meeting with the Dunedain, then there's going to be a time jump and the next chapter is the WEDDING! And smut. Finally.

The Dining Hall was as full as Chris had ever seen it.  Extra tables had been dragged in and it looked like all of Erebor was there.  A small platform had been built in the center, as had been done with the Feast of the Fallen, and the Master of Ceremonies was busily ordering Dwarrow about and wringing his hands.  He looked so nervous that Chris felt a pang of sympathy for the elderly Dwarf.  She broke away from the group around her, to go talk to him

“Master Hallur, what troubles you this night?”

“Oh, my Lady!  I had such a startle.  It is nothing you need concern yourself with…the simple worries of an old Dwarf.”

“If any in my home be worried, then I _shall_ be concerned, needed or not,” Chis told him.

“Heh, quite, you are the Lady.  But it is nothing.”

“If you’re positive.  Good work on getting this set up so quickly,” she said eyeing the elaborate arrangement of tables and the platform.

“Well, to be truthful, we started last night when the word of the judgement came.  It was going to be a mournful gathering in honor of the lost.”

“And then I quite mucked it all up, didn’t I?” she said sheepishly.

“Oh, no, my Lady, glad celebrations are always better, but yes, I suppose some things needed to be re-worked, and the singers….”

“Let them sing.”

“What?”

“Let them sing, so that those who were…misplaced, may hear what was written of us when we were gone.  It’s not every day a girl gets to know what people would say of her after she died.”

With a smile and a nod, Chris went up to her normal seat.

The feast began well, with a short speech by Thorin about the miraculous turn of events and the gratitude Erebor held for its returned Lord, Spymaster, Prince and Princess.  A small murmur went through the older nobility at how readily Thorin had switched from grudging acceptance of the bond to outright naming her royalty.  Some speculation was picked up by carefully placed ears that it was an acknowledgement of her Dunedain heritage, but this seemed to carry more weight.

The singers began as the first plates were set by a veritable army of servers.  The first was a somewhat abashed looking minstrel who sang the song the older guard with the black eye had referenced.  Chris held back a snort at the line about reading Kili like a book.  She had to pretend she was crying to hide her laughter at the bit at the end suggesting Kili marry her, as he so happened to have done.

The next singer was a tough, lean Dwarf who looked no stranger to hardship.  He dedicated his song to Lord Bofur, although the sparkle in his eyes told he knew how Bofur felt about the title.

Oh the night that Lordy Bofur died, is a night I'll never forget  
Some of the boys got loaded drunk, and they ain't got sober yet;  
As long as a bottle was passed around everyone was feelin' gay  
Ol' Teky came with the tinpipes, some music for to play  
  
That's how they showed their respect for Lordy Bofur  
That's how they showed their honor and their pride;  
They said it was a sin and shame and they winked at one another  
And every drink in the place was full the night Lord Bofur died  
  
As his kin sat in the corner pouring out their grief  
Kelti and his gang came a tearing down the street  
They went into an empty room and a bottle of whiskey stole  
They put the bottle with the coin to keep that whiskey cold  
  
That's how they showed their respect for Lordy Bofur  
That's how they showed their honor and their pride;  
They said it was a sin and shame and they winked at one another  
And every drink in the place was full the night Lord Bofur died  
  
About two o'clock in the morning after empty'ing the jake  
Dolgi rolls up the death box lid to see poor Lordy's take  
We stopped the clock so no one could tell the time  
And at a quarter after two we argued it was nine  
  
That's how they showed their respect for Lordy Bofur  
That's how they showed their honor and their pride;  
They said it was a sin and shame and they winked at one another  
And every drink in the place was full the night Lord Bofur died  
  
They stopped the march on Granite Street outside Stonedance Saloon  
They all went in at half past eight and staggered out at noon  
They went up to the Unburied Halls, so holy and sublime  
Found out when they got there, they'd left the coin behind!  
  
That's how they showed their respect for Lordy Bofur  
That's how they showed their honor and their pride;  
They said it was a sin and shame and they winked at one another  
And every drink in the place was full the night Lord Bofur died  
  
Oh the night that Lordy Bofur died, is a night I'll never forget  
Some of the boys got loaded drunk, and they ain't got sober yet;  
As long as a bottle was passed around everyone was feelin' gay  
Ol' Teky came with the tinpipes, some music for to play  


“Well, that was odd,” Chris remarked.

“That was Orar,” Bofur said.  “I once remarked I’d like my passing to be marked by a drinking song and he’s never let me live it down. Bugger didn't even let me die it down.”

“And the coins?”

“Miners don’t always have a body to bury, so in absence a death box collects some coin from friends and the last pay out and the box goes to the spot in the Halls of the Unburied Dead for the miner, and his kin can take from it to pay off final debts, or help the young ones get good apprenticeships.”

“Ah.”

A song was sung for Nori entirely in iglishmêk, so Chris only caught some of it.  A rather long song in Khuzdul went to Kili, and then a Dam stepped up.  Chris recognized her, a visiting Master Songcrafter, here to tutor in Orocarni song craft.

“For the Lady,” spoke Biza Moonstone in a soft, deferential tone.  “I offer a song in the style of the far north.  May it please her.

One pearl for a lady with heart wide and loving  
Who never denies an embrace  
One pearl for the skill that the whole hall is toasting  
Accomplishments gone without trace  
  
One pearl like the moon lies eclipsed by her sunlight  
Still warm even burdened with care  
For one who would carry the needs of the people  
One pearl for the strength of the bear  
  
One pearl for the valor of one who steps forward  
When all others feel it’s too much  
To show by example what it means to be noble  
One pearl for her labors of love.”

“That was beautiful.  I thank you for this, Craftsmaster Biza Moonstone.”

“It was an honor, my Lady.  I find much inspiration in you.  Perhaps I can later craft a song of happier notes in your name.”

“That would greatly please me.  If you would care to sit with us, I believe there is a spot near Lady Dis.  You two can conspire over wedding music.”

Biza bowed low in the Orocarni style before going to sit by Dis.

The feast proceeded well, but sooner or later, as such things are wont to happen, politics came up.

“All I’m saying is, as the eldest surviving member of their Royal line, the Dunedain have a preceding claim,” said Lord Alvar, gesturing with his wine goblet.  Chris signaled the servers to cut his wine with more water, again.  “The prior birthright must be taken into consideration.  It’s not like she’s marrying the Crown Prince.”

“Lord Alvar,” Chris began diplomatically “I happen to be seated not five chairs from you and can certainly hear you.  Please do not speak as though I’m not here.”

“Apologies, my Lady, but you must see that the rightful claim is of your kin.”

Chris took a deep breath and tried to form a polite negation, but realized in that moment that trying too hard to be a peacemaker was precisely what had been standing in her way this whole time.  She knew Kili fell in love with her, the foul-mouthed cook with the ability to make grown men cry, not this soft-voiced Princess who didn’t dare anger anyone.  She shut her eyes for a moment before opening them, and the only one who didn’t see the danger was Lord Alvar.

“Lord Alvar,” she said in a syrupy sweet voice that should have told him to flee.  “My that’s a bit of a mouthful, isn’t it?  You mind don’t mind if I call you Al, do you?”  Before he could protest, she continued, right over his sputtering, still sickly sweet.  “Al, darling, what you don’t seem to comprehend is that there are a grand total of two people on this good green earth that can decide what I do without getting smacked upside the head.  Dis, because she frightens everyone with the good sense God gave groundhogs, and _me_.  There is no ‘rightful claim’ because I am not an antique desk that’s under contestation in an inheritance.  You don’t get to call ‘dibs’ on living, thinking beings.  That would be slavery, and very wrong.  Also, I was under the impression that a female’s choice of mate was inviolate in Dwarven law.  I don’t recall the paragraph that says ‘unless she’s inconvenient, in which case give her to people who will marry her off for advantage to some crusty old noble she doesn’t like because he offered the best bride-price and alliance.’ 

And that _is_ , dear old Al,” suddenly her voice sharpened. “ _Exactly_ what would happen if I were to live among my own race, especially the Dunedain, as they have the most to gain by marrying me off to, oh who’s the Steward, Turgon?  Isn’t he ninety?  In Man-years that’s decrepit, he won’t last a decade, but I’ll be expected to lie in his marriage bed, think of Gondor and make a royal baby.  Or I could get married to his eldest son by his first marriage, he’s only half again as old as I, except I don’t think his wife should care for being cast over for a younger, more politically valuable bride.  Nor do I think his son or daughters should like being raised by a step-mother almost as young as they.”

“Well, now, that’s not, I just meant….”

“Al, my buddy that may not have been as far as your mind went, but that’s what would happen. I’m sure your thoughts and intentions stopped at watching my happy little tush walk out of your life, never to return.  However, I happen to know a thing about a thing, and let me tell you, my _choices_ , the thing I was told Dwarrow honor _above all else_ would be Brood Sow to a decrepit Steward, Usurping Brood Sow to a less decrepit heir, or dear Valar, they might marry me to _Denethor_.  He’s only a kid!  He shouldn’t be getting married!”

“My Lady, really, must you be so crude?” begged Lord Alvar.

“Dress a donkey in silk brocade and it is still an ass.  You were crude first.  I was just honest about it.  Or did I miss the trend in calling women chattel and threatening them with _marital rape_?”

“I did no such-”

“Yes, Alvar, you did,” spoke Thorin.  “We have been increasingly displeased with your attitude towards some of Our most valued subjects.  This is only the latest display, and once again We owe Our niece for pointing out obvious solutions.  If you are so keen to give one of Our subjects to a group of strangers, Alvar, son of Bolvar, _you_ may join the Dunedain at your convenience.  In the meantime, I, Thorin Oakenshield strip you of rank and title, starting now.  Balin will see you tomorrow to remove your official signets and any lordship beads you possess.  You may leave Us now.”

As Alvar shuffled off in shame, Chris turned to Thorin.  “Nice use of the Royal We, Uncle,” she murmured.  “But I wasn’t aiming to have his title stripped.”

“I was looking for an excuse.  He’s one of the most annoying Traditionalists I’ve ever met.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to pull some of those with apologies to things here.  
> The song about Bofur is a lightly (so lightly) parodied version of this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fO7cd8uXVRQ
> 
> The song Biza Moonstone sings isn't even parodied or edited, I straight up stole that from Heather Dale, although I did name Biza in honor of her, Biza is a shortened form of the Khuzdul word 'bizar' meaning dale, and the flower meaning of heather matches well with the gemstone meaning of moonstone. So Biza Moonstone is the ME version of Heather, except not Canadian. The Orocarni range has the northern-most Dwarven settlements, but it isn't Canada.  
> You can find our-world Heather's song here:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e3vZ1lO5_E0


	17. Calculations and Contemplations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A monster chapter of a lot of talking and thinking and not so much action as of the last few chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This thing devoured so much space. It was going to be a quick time jump, invite the fam, have a feast, be done. But nooo, it was 1.8 k of planning.
> 
> To DarknessEvernight13 and Tigrislillium for commenting, and a HUGE shout out to kinpandun for all the help.
> 
> Also, you may have, if you follow my tumblr, seen that I now have a Patreon. While it won't stop me updating, not feeling like I have to job search 24/7 will help me get stuff done faster. As the primary income for myself and MommySidhe right now, every little bit helps keep us fed, medicated and not homeless.

Three weeks passed, Chris got her study in order, Kili discovered that the delving had been continued even when everyone thought they were dead, and Bofur gained a sudden reputation as a legendary hero (which Nori found hysterical until it happened to him too, and both of them gave Dwalin dead-arms for laughing at them).  Balin utilized his gift from Chris so well that much of the backlog from the official mourning period got dealt with, and inviting Chris to sit in on meetings had the dual effect of teaching her and getting recalcitrant Dwarrow Lords and Guildmasters to figure out compromises.  All she really had to do was quietly point out that they were making mountains out of mole-hills (and that seemed a very apt description of the hysterics Balin saw daily, but despite its Dwarven seeming nature it wasn’t one he’d heard before).

Three weeks had passed and no word from the Dunedain.  To say that Nori was concerned would be like saying Mordor was a touch gloomy.  He’d honestly expected them to return the next day.  But they remained in Dale.  The stories his minions in Dale brought back, however…it would seem the decedents of the Lords of the North were telling tales on the Princess.  Doubtless they hoped to get Bard on their side.  But Bard was honorable.  He was trustworthy, and honest.  And as much as Nori hesitated to place faith in a Man with no real coin on the table, he knew Bard would never turn on them unless Thorin went gold-mad again, and should that be the case, Nori would gladly welcome Dale’s forces to assist in removing a gold-mad King, even Thorin.

Nori took his concerns to Dwalin, who shared them with Balin, and the Inner Council was called.  Consisting only of Quest members, Dis, their spouses and anyone three or more vouched for, the Inner Council was small, and relatively unknown.  To many it looked like a private reunion for Questors.  In a way it was.  Thorin formed the Inner Council because he realized that he was not always the most fit to settle tricky issues and he trusted no-one else in the early days of Iron Hills Dwarrow and the lingering effects of the dragon-sickness.  He still dared not go near the treasury.  Gloin handled it for him, and Balin arranged urgent business whenever an inspection was called so that Dis or Nori (both far less susceptible) could do it instead.

“It’s been three weeks,” said Nori in opening.  “I don’t trust it.  Leave ‘em alone long enough and bad things can occur to a fellow.  Seen it happen to too many thieves, in prisons or in hiding.  Get funny in the head, come back cracked.  If it can happen to a band of five Dwarrow, it can happen to a company of twenty Rangers.”

“So we don’t leave them alone,” said Chris.

“I’ve already got shadows and crows on them.  We’ll know what they plan, I just don’t want it to go that far.”

“Action, not reaction,” rumbled Dwalin.  “Better strategy.”

“That’s what I meant.  We don’t leave them alone, we go to them.”

“Bard won’t thank us for a war.  Another one, I mean,” said Fili.

“Males,” sighed Chris.  “I’m not talking a fight I’m talking a dinner party.”

A unanimous, if diverse sound that approximated a generalized ‘what?’ came from most of the council room.

“She means to break bread, not bones, you fools,” chided Dis.  “Thorin, how many times did I host a dinner and happen to invite the heads of warring guilds?”

“Many times, and I don’t recall them ever leaving without an accord.”

“Exactly.  Dinner table diplomacy.  Sit them down over a feast, get them mildly liquored up, then just let the topic under contention come up naturally.”

“We can do that,” Balin said.  “I’ll draft a letter to their leader inviting him to come to the mountain for dinner.”

Before Balin could go much further in his preparations, Chris stopped him with a raised hand.  She hadn’t had that kind of sway before but whether it was the whole Mahal thing, or the fact the Dunedain were here for her, claiming her as a Princess (despite the Inner Council knowing that was fabricated), or something else entirely, Dwarrow of all stations listened when she spoke.

“Invite all of them, but have the letter delivered to that one that kept comparing me to Arathorn.”

“But….”

“Inviting one would give the impression this was a negotiation,” Dis chided.  “You don’t invite just a Guildmaster to dinner; you invite the spouse and children as well.  Otherwise it’s a business meal.  We don’t want to do business.”

“But sending it to an unknown man to deliver to his leader…terribly rude, isn’t it?”

“Oh my yes, very,” chuckled Chris.  “It’s a snub.  I get to do that since I’m ‘royalty’.  It’s done all the time in high society and political games back home.  Mum made me keep flow charts of who liked whom and how much and who’d cut whom cold at the last gala so I wouldn’t accidentally upset an ally at parties.”

“Cutting someone cold sounds…violent,” Dwalin added hesitantly.  “I’m no diplomat but that isn’t what I think of when I think diplomacy.”

“Not violent,” Nori corrected, “vicious.  I saw it done once at a party I happened to be hired as a server at.”

“And why were you a server?” Dori asked with one eyebrow in the air.

“It was an honest evening’s work,” Nori said, faux-offended.  Then he grinned big, “And a great help to a dishonest night’s work.”  Dori sighed and Ori simply rolled his eyes.  “But it means to pretend you don’t care about someone.  It’s the same as giving someone the hematite treatment.  I overheard the name when two Men were speaking of it.”

“Exactly.  I want him to know I trust his lieutenant more than I trust him.  Address it in the letter to Thalbarad, but put To the Dunedain on the envelope.  And yes, use an envelope, spending the extra on something that unnecessary will drive home the Royal-ness of the situation.”

“If you’re sure….”

“Nori, can you get the letter to that one specific Man, even though I don’t know his name?”

“His name is Panarth, son of Dirhael, who just so happened to be the leader of the Dunedain prior to Arathorn,” Nori supplied.  “There may have been an argument one of mine may have told me about overhearing.  Some want him to lead instead of Thalbarad.  He has no desire for it.  He only came because if you’re related to Arathorn, then you’re related to him, his sister got married to your distant cousin.”

“There could be trouble, if Thalbarad thinks you favor one with better claim.”

“I don’t.  I’m inviting my kinsman and his friends for supper.  I’m friendly like that.  In fact, Balin, address the letter to Panarth, my cousin on the envelope though, and inside address the whole of the Dunedain.  And leave a space for me to write directly to him.”

“Yes, Princess.”

OOOOOOOOOO

Panarth was a simple man, he did not have his mother’s foresight, but if there was a descendant of Elindil here, and she claimed knowledge of another, one ‘closer to home’, then that meant his elder sister had a child, a boy child from the way she spoke of him.  Panarth had a nephew!  One he would not, should not know until he had already learned and done all that Panarth, in Arathorn’s absence should have taught him and watched him do.

The other rangers did not understand his despondence.  Nuallán and his group wished him to challenge Thalbarad for leadership, since his lineage was tied to the Chieftains of old.  Calphrom was quite vocal about not wanting a Princess of the North to be wed to a Dwarf, insisting they were dirty greedy things that could never make her happy.  ‘Like I could’ went unspoken, but very well understood.  The two groups were vying for his favor, offering small encouragements.  He did not want it,, that burden that turned his brother in law and in shield grey too soon.  He wanted peace, a quiet life, maybe to take in a child orphaned by mischance, but he had no wish for a wife, or for a husband, despite certain claims.  He knew he could not have that, so he contented himself with brotherhood and fellowship.

So it was with both excitement and trepidation that Panarth accepted the Royal missive from the blue-liveried Dwarf boy.  The child had blue-black hair that did not even approach brown, the color of raven wings, skin the color of the darkest ambers from Fornost, eyes the brown of rich soil, and the look of an utter and unrepentant scoundrel.

“You say the Princess gave you this to give to me?”

“Yes, I did sir Ranger.”

“Why me, and not Thalbarad, who gave his name to her?”

“Lady don’t need the givin’ of a name to know her kin, sir Ranger, begging your pardon.”

“She…knows?”

“Well, it’s writ on the missive, couldn’t help but see, sir Ranger.”

He looked down, **_Panarth, son of Dirhael, Our cousin_** was plainly written in a fine hand with deep blue ink, the color of the banner of Durin, on the folded paper.  “Thank you, I’d give you a copper for your trouble, but I wasn’t expecting to buy anything when I left for the gardens.”

“I’d not accept anyways, not for a service to the Lady.”  He spoke with great reverence.

“She is dear to you.”  It wasn’t a question, but the lad answered anyway.

“She is a gift of Mahal, she slays monsters and teaches us and when she sings, oh sir when she sings, she is magic.”

“Her gifts do not match her cousin, then, he could not carry a tune if you put it in his pack for him,” laughed Panarth.  The boy’s face grew dark.

“You laugh now, but when the Lady sings you will not.  She touches stone with song.  And her power can cause the mountain to sing too.  She could sing the mountain into dance.”  The child brightened.  “But you will learn. And you are loved by Her, so I guess she’ll not hurt you.”

Panarth waved unsurely as the messenger scampered off.  Inside the paper, another sheet lay addressed to the whole company in the same neat hand, but black ink.

_To Our visitors,_

_We should like to cordially invite you to a feast at Erebor three evenings hence.  Realizing that travel is often inconvenient for formal attire, the feast is to be a casual affair.  It is requested that you leave all war-blades and bows with the Guard station at the main gate._

 Two marks lay side by side, blue and gold beside a simpler rune in pale purple.  Underneath lay another’s writing, a broader, surer stroke.  No rune lay beneath it, but it was unneeded, as the text was quite clear.

_My cousin,_

_If you are who I believe you to be, and I am seldom wrong in such matters, I have much to tell you.  It is not safe for the mutual interest we share to write it down, please see me after the feast._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr: bairnsidhe.tumblr.com
> 
> Patreon: http://patreon.com/bairnsidhe


	18. A Very Expected Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dunedain! And the next chapter is the wedding, I promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to the amazing Kin Pandun who named two of the Dunedain mentioned here.
> 
> Much thanks also to everybody who has stuck by me.
> 
> Please consider pledging to my Patreon, my health and well-being thanks you.

Preparations for the feast went well, as Chris insisted on ‘better-than-you casual’, which was much easier than a traditional Dwarven feast as had been arranged the day they returned.  It mainly consisted of a mid-sized ballroom, some tables draped in fabric and chairs instead of benches, as only a few of the populace were expected to attend.  Chris had very carefully asked each of the Inner Council to invite three of their craftmate friends, plus one.  Then she had to explain a plus one.  Dinner was to be roasted venison and a variety of side dishes. 

The most frustrating thing to Balin and Dori, who had the dubious honor of planning this was Chris jealously guarding a single small kitchen for herself.  Only Kili and Dis were allowed entrance.  She had read up on native edibles of Arda on one of her free days and discovered that south of Harad was a land few knew anything about, but from it came a dark, bitter bean used to make a drink sweetened with honey, and knowing what she did of her own world’s history of food, determined it was the coco bean.  The trade caravan wasn’t due to arrive back from northern Harad until next week, when she could hopefully verify it, but she wanted to knock the socks off her guests, and had taken precautions prior to leaving her old world.  So she planned to make a grand statement with chocolate brownie layered lava cake, and after the last cake… well,, she wasn’t taking chances.  It consisted of one large circle of Devils’ Food chocolate cake (Betty Crocker did come in handy as a cheat, and she’d stocked up big time in case the coco extraction process was harder than the books made it look), a smaller circle-pan of brownies (they better appreciate her giving up part of her chocolate chip stash) a hole carved in the center of the two, but not all the way to the bottom, filled with a red-velvet custard, topped with a half layer of the smallest circle of Devil’s Food, and re-baked just long enough to expand the custard filling. 

Dis took over slathering it in icing as Chris went to change into a gown of Durin blue with silver and white embroidery.  She liked it because she had asked the seamstress to make the skirt a separate piece that wrapped around before fastening with a platinum frog shaped like clasping hands  Underneath she wore her work out pants, and the skirt could be removed in a moment allowing full movement even though the drape made her look regal.  The bodice had a sweetheart neckline and cap sleeves.  She turned her cooking braid into a bun by wrapping it in a snood, a small knitted net that held it back and the shards of quartz turned the plain and somber hair accessory into a fine illusion of stars or fairy dust.  The yarn matched her hair, adding to the effect.

She took a deep breath and Kili’s arm, and went to greet their guests.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Thalbarad had not been happy when the lieutenant he knew many wished to replace him came to the camp with a letter bearing a Royal Sigil of Erebor.  He’d been somewhat placated by Panarth’s explanation that it was only his kin inviting them, not the Royal House.  The missive was short, diplomatic and polite, only one word of those three would he associate with Elendil’s heir.  His men readied themselves and walked up the path to the mountain.  Sure enough there was a guard station he had not seen before in his rush at the main gate.  They handed over their weapons to “Saksi, at your service” and moved inside, where a shy and bookish Dwarf met them.

“Call me Ori,” he said.  “This way.”

Their guide pointed out several wonders of craftsmanship and natural beauty, including the previously mentioned fish lakes.  They were beautiful, until a dwarfling tossed a chunk of raw meat into the air over one and at least five fish jumped to grab it.  Several jaws dropped.

“Oh,” said the guide, Ori. “Those are Ablagdaig.  They don’t eat the fish that we do, they only eat meat eaters, so we stock the lakes with them in case a seeding shipment of fingerlings has something that shouldn’t in it.  Plus they’re pretty, and when they die they wash up and the tanners make some amazing things.  Meat’s not half bad either, kind of beef-like.”  The casual nature with which he spoke of man-eating fish, even if they were a nice pearly pink color drained blood from the faces of several Rangers.

“The ballroom’s not far.  This way please.”

The room itself was not as grand as Dwarves seemed to favor, but it was large enough for several tables surrounding an area the Rangers presumed was for dancing, as their guide had called it a ballroom.  The tables were draped in blue and white sheets and set with silver plates and cutlery.  Ori gestured to take a seat wherever they cared to, although he requested Thalbarad sit by the King, and Panarth sit at the table to the right that had the Princess and her intended.  It seemed the Royalty had split up among the tables, although it was hard to tell if the nobility had as well, as a runner had addressed the guide as Lord Ori.

Thalbarad took his place by Thorin, and Panarth sat next to his cousin.  Nuallán aimed straight for the table whose residents were wearing the best gems, to absolutely no-one’s surprise who knew him.  One of his tighter friends sat there as well.  Calphrom took his seat on the opposite side of the room; their continued rivalry would not stop this night it seemed.  It was less crowded, but soon a garishly dressed and slightly drunk Dwarf Lord came to sit with him, and some of Nuallán’s lesser cronies sat there as well, the cloth of gold out weighing Calphrom’s presence.  Slowly the tables filled, and the early course was passed out by tabard wearing servants.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“It took me a while,” remarked Thorin.

“What?” Thalbarad asked.

“To understand them.  Your princess and my sister-son.  But higher hands than mine have crafted that bond, and an apprentice does not argue a Master’s work.  He made my nephew an archer, a bowyer, and a fletcher with only middling skill in a forge and half stone blind.  He made my nephew’s One a princess in all but kingdom, a cook and probably the most stubborn person I have ever met, and I know wizards.  Why I could not guess.  But one doesn’t need to understand a water mill to know it makes flour.  They are destined and foretold.  Our oldest legends speak of a love like theirs.”

“I did not say I did not understand.  An heir of Gondor and Arnor is a catch in any race.”

“She never told us.”  Thalbarad looked at him strangely.  “She said she came from “far away” and that she was a cook by trade.  That was who we invited in.  She showed the gift of prophesy and would not share it, because some things must be, even if they hurt us.  She tossed my best fighter on his back and shared the trick openly, because that is who she is.  That is who we gave confidence to.  She bore arms in battle against darkness because we were in danger, because Kili was in danger, because her heart was true.  That is who Kili fell in love with.  She was almost murdered because some of the worst of my people thought she was not worthy, and they lost their foolish heads for it, not because she is a Princess, but because she is our Lady of Light.  We love her.  Dwarves guard what they love.  Not the treasure, the people, the history, the home.  That is what a true Dwarf fights for.”

“That is what a Ranger fights for as well.”

“Then know this, Ranger, _we_ loved her first.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“It is good to get to know you cousin,” Panarth said diplomatically.

“And you as well.  I was quite grateful for your arrival, once I cooled down.  Very timely.”

“I’m not sure what you mean….”

“Well, I’m to be married.”  She reached to touch the arm of her intended, who strangely looked like Arathorn, had he been a Dwarf.  “It will go much faster if I have a relative to do some of the proper steps.”

“That is, of course,” said the Dwarf she clearly loved.  His voice was even but with a touch of steel, “if you would stand for her.”

“I have every suspicion my Lady cousin can stand for herself, and the man who tried to influence her romantic choices would get a knee somewhere tender.”

The Princess laughed.  “Oh they would.  If not my knee, then that of Thorin.”

“Or Fili, or myself,” added Kili.

“Don’t forget me,” added a grumpy looking Dwarf with a tattooed head.  “Or Nori or Katla.”

“No, Dwalin, don’t be silly,” laughed the Princess, “Nori would be more subtle and Katla would use the wheat-sack.  She’s been a handful since I gave her permission to use it in combat.”

Panarth was quite confused.  “Who… are these people?  And why would they…”

“They would do so because the female’s choice in mate is inviolate.  The Dam chooses, and the Dwarf may decline.  Interference is not tolerated.  And Thorin is the King, Fili is the Crown Prince, Nori is Dwalin’s One, and Katla is my most dedicated student.”

“Mine as well,” added the Dwarf who must be Dwalin.  “But she likes your classes better, more suited to a Dam.”

“Well it was a style that grew out of being smaller and smarter….”

“I feel I ought to be offended, but you’ve put my back to the sand so often I can’t disagree,” added Kili.

“You teach fighting, Princess?”

“Well, I’m rubbish at needlework and everyone needs a hobby,” she quipped.

“Hers is pounding fully trained Guards until they admit her superiority,” her betrothed added.  She smacked his arm.

“Is not.  It’s the practice and teaching of Eastern Martial Arts,” she said with a lofty air “reminding uppity guardsmen of their proper place is a side benefit.”

“That place wouldn’t be abject fear and awe, would it?” asked Dwalin rhetorically to the laughter of all.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nori was enjoying the new toy he’d found in Calphrom.  The Man would not stop talking.  There hadn’t been this much new intel in the mountain since the crows joined them.  Nori almost wished he had Ori to take notes but that would have taken away from the plan to have an Inner Council member at every table. 

Every so often someone else would say something while Calphrom’s mouth was occupied with feasting, only for Calphrom to refute or agree, but mostly refute.  Nori could tell he thought each word from his lips was mithril from Mahal’s forges.  It wasn’t, but the way others reatcted was worth more than Calphrom’s weight in gold to a Spymaster.

Suddenly a cry went up by Dori’s table.  Calphrom’s rival Nuallán had stood to berate a server for spilling wine, but Dori was signaling it was the man’s own drunken clumsiness.  Nori was about to intervene, when Chris stood goblet raised high, silver knife tapping crystal.  “A toast,” she cried.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chris had been watching Dori’s table.  The Rangers who sat there had the entitled air of a businessman about to break the cardinal rule of don’t fuck with people who handle your food.  So she saw the drunken man tip his goblet, splattering his sleeve, and only the fast reflexes of Kínsi stopped the whole thing ending up on the white tablecloth.

She queued the right song and slipped Kili the player.  The speakers had been hidden under her seat for emergency reasons.  With a nod to him she grabbed her glass and tapped it, calling for a toast.  They hadn’t found an instrumental, so it sounded like a chorus was singing, or maybe an echo, since she started half a beat before the track.

“The hall is well crowded, the feast underway  
To cook and assistants all homage we pay  
But lest we forget those who serve us this day  
I ask you to raise up your glass-”

Suddenly goblets around the room were raised, including the Man already standing to yell when she started the song.  
  
“To those who eat last and who give us the best  
Let's drink to the few who would serve all the rest  
  
At court or at tourney they're noble as you”

Techincally, maybe, because this dinner was being served only by those who had earned the right to serve at the High Table, and the man in question practically smelled of trying too hard to look faux nouveau-riche.  At a Dwarven Court or Tourney, the servers would be given equal presidence to the little fake lordling.

“But tonight they don tabards to ladle the stew  
So lest we forget all the gentle folk who  
Would serve you this evening's repast  
  
To those who eat last and who give us the best  
Let's drink to the few who would serve all the rest  
  
More food or more water, my lady? My lord?”

Chris mimed serving in a way that made it clear she had once been a professional at it.

"To those who don't rest 'til the last has been poured  
And platter on platter, has laden the board  
For service without being asked  
  
To those who eat last and who give us the best  
Let's drink to the few who would serve all the rest  
To those who eat last and who give us the best  
Let's drink to the few who would serve all the rest!”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Nuallán was having a terrible time.  First he discovered he was sitting with _weavers_ and then the most obviously wealthy and important Dwarf Lord had sat with _Calphrom_.  Only the decent wine made it tolerable.  Then some clumsy Dwarf spilled wine on his best shirt, and that impudent wench turned his _very rightful_ anger into a _joke_.  Duped into toasting that little dust-grubber.  He only barely registered the other voice behind the girl, or the music that did not come from minstrels playing, as all the musicians had gone silent when the chit stood.  As soon as his venison was done, he slipped away to go home.  Thankfully that polite guard from the gate had gotten off duty and directed him to the fastest corridor that did not pass the dreadful lake.

Three toughs jumped him in the hall and shoved him through a door he could have sworn wasn’t there.  The door led to a hall that sloped downward, and into a room circled with arches leading to their own halls.  A grating sound caused him to look up.  That smirking false faced guard was grinning down at him.

“Welcome to the Underhalls.  You’ll be our guest until you learn not to anger servers who fought damned hard to get where they are, trusted to serve our royalty and most honored guests.  My sister says you need time to sober up before I hand back your weapons, anyway.  There are twelve paths, one leads to food, one to water, and one to the outside.  The others all lead to danger, temptation and death.  Have a nice stay.”  The door shifted shut, leaving him in an eerie green lit dimness.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

All in all, the feast went well.  The cake was a huge hit when Thorin cut the top off with a single swing from a carefully cleaned Orcrist and the expanded custard flowed out and down rivulets in the icing.  Dis was good at this, Chris noted as a crumb of carved off cake became a bolder caught in the lava.  Everyone was pleased with the chocolate as well.  Chris got Panarth to agree to stay to represent her in the traditions, as long as it took no more than a moon, which suited her just fine.  Thalbarad made a strong friend in Thorin based on mutual grumpy angst they disguised as majesty, and Nori was much more informed.  Nuallán was nowhere to be found, and before Kili could mention the Underhalls, Chris informed them she’d seen him leave before the cake and dancing portion of the evening and was probably back at camp.  And if Saksi had a few extra things with him at the guard station when the Rangers picked up their armaments, well that was between his sister and him.  Panarth planned to return to stay as a guest while Thalbarad moved north into the Withered Heath to fight some goblin-ish creature that he’d heard of.  Calphrom was thrilled to find that Nuallán had deserted, leaving him the most influential voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: bairnsidhe.tumblr.com
> 
> My Patreon: http://patreon.com/bairnsidhe


	19. Wedding Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! The first half of the wedding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be one chapter of wedding, but thanks to my stupid wedding head canons it was getting crazy long, so I trimmed it down.
> 
> Huge thanks to Kin Pandun.

Panarth spent the next fortnight learning about Dwarves, and trying to pry details about the nephew he knew not from his seer cousin-in-law.  She proved resolute, saying only that his sister had good charge of him in a safe place where he could become the man he would need to be.  He teased tiny scraps of information from her, such as his nephew’s looks, and the fact he would marry well and sire a son who would not know a time when darkness claimed the innocence of the young too soon and their elders could not stop it.

Aside from cryptic hints and riddles, he also learned a number of other useful things.  His kinswoman had an oath-bound sister among Dwarves who was craft-wed.  He had never heard of such a thing, and said as much at a family luncheon with Roda, daughter of Rokur.  She simply snorted.

“Not surprising.  You Men are so strange, demanding that all love in the same ways.  To be craft-wed is simple.  I love my craft in place of a husband or a wife.  I am wed to my work.  I may love another as kin, as I love my father, as I love Chris.  I may someday raise a child and I will no doubt love them, but I will never feel for another in the way of spouses.”

“You, have no desire to marry?  Ever?”

“No.  I’m already wed to my craft.”

“It’s quite simple Panarth,” Chris added over a teacup.  “It’s in the name.  Craft.  Wed.  Wed to a craft instead of a person.  Her calling to be a scribe is the same as the calling Dwarves feel to their One, the other half of them.  She would lose her mind trying to force herself to ignore it in favor of a marriage, and this is common enough that there are protections.  She wears the symbols of craft-marriage, so she’s pretty much married.  Even if the Laws did not state that pressuring her to wed was forbidden, she’s claimed her other half.”

“How…how common?”

“Not many each decade claim the signs, but we see the value in those who bind themselves to a task, so the fact that it happens at all is enough.”

“ _For every man there is a purpose which he sets up in his life. Let yours be the doing of all good deeds_ ,” added Chris in a soft voice.  “A friend told me that once.”  She looked away.  “He said it was a teaching of his beliefs.  He was peaceful, and kind, and a gifted diplomat.  He would have approved of the purpose to which Roda has given her life.”

“Was?” Panarth asked gently.

She smiled sadly at him.  “He was shot.  He was trying to inform his people of a threat.  The threat objected.  He believed in truth, loved it as Roda does, and he died telling it.”

“He was a Man?”

“Yes, and before you ask he was also craft-wed, although there is no way to say that outside Dwarven Halls.”

“I might be as well, then, if the Race of Men can be so,” he said contemplatively.  “I had not considered that my love might be only to kith and kin and duty.”

“Your name does mean _all noble things_ ,” noted Chris.  “Perhaps it is more than a name.  Perhaps it is guidance.  Perhaps, my cousin, you are meant to set your path to the doing of all noble things.  It would be the rare woman that could sit second to such a purpose, and Eru is wise in the makings of many things.”

“Indeed, favorable fortune brought you to us,” added Roda.  “I will show my oath-sister how to do the braids, so you can learn to claim it to others if you wish.”

“That is very kind.”  
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Finally the wedding arrived.  Tradition called for more older members of Chris’s kin than she had, but as she was oath-bound to Roda, Rokur stepped up for her.  He paid for the herald to proclaim the declaration, and since everybody had been waiting for it, the herald did not have to do much.

The declaration took place in the Hall of Kings, due to expected crowd size.  Chris stood in a hooded gown of white embellished in silver at the very front.  She wore the pearl earrings and necklace she’d received from her mother, held for her from her grandmother’s estate, and the enamel cherry blossom hair combs she bought for herself at the market, but no other adornment.  Declaring while wearing courting gifts (which almost all her jewelry counted as) was fairly insulting, assuming victory in a social battle that had yet to begin.  Her hair held the braids of the cook, the warrior, the diplomat, the royal and the (very old and hard to find the pattern to) braid of a Messenger of Mahal, not used since Durin last walked.

Panarth and Rokur flanked her as Dis stood from her seat.

“You who has come to declare, speak your name and line, and that of whom you would declare for.”  Her voice was stern, but Chris knew she’d planned every inch of this to be as traditional as possible.

Chris stepped forward and threw off the hood, revealing all the braids to the crowd.  “I am Christiana, of the line of O’Malley, and I would declare my love and desire to wed Kili, of the line of Durin, for I shall have no other.”  That last bit wasn’t strictly necessary, but Nori told her the Race of Men was seen as a touch promiscuous for remarrying.  She did not want any tabloid-esque rumors around her marriage, thank you.

“Kili of the line of Durin, do you contest this declaration?”

“Nay.  If she should wish my heart, it is hers.”  Also more than he needed to say.

“Do any here see fit to challenge the declaration?”

An echoing silence.

“Then the Days of the Six Mothers begin.  Thorin, of the line of Durin, shall you claim judgement?”

“I shall leave judgement to my sister, in honor of the Mothers.”

“We begin tomorrow, on the Day of Proving,” Dis said. 

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The next day, in the Hall once more, Chris bared her braids.

“You claim many braids, some that others would not dare to weave.  Explain them.”

“I am cook by Craft, in the kitchen lies my work, in the full bellies of my people lies my success.”

She paused for a moment, allowing objections that never came

“I am warrior by training, in sword and knife and the skill of my hands lies my power, in the burned corpses of my people’s foes lies my success.”

“I am child to diplomats, and in that blood and the teachings of wiser ones than I lies my strength, in the peace of my people lies my success.” 

She looked at Panarth.  The next one must be carefully worded. 

“I am claimed kin to the line of Elendil, in my heart’s knowledge lies my truth, and in the care of kin lies my success.”

“You have many skills you present to us, and none have denied them,” Dis proclaimed.  “Yet you wear one braid more.”

“I am but a single thread in a tapestry woven beyond the West.  I bear the braid of one who carries a burden, and I cannot nor will not claim it was my doing.  Mahal is greater than I, and should he choose to use my back to bear his tasks, my lips to bear his words, I shall not fight it, but I claim no glory here, for this was not a thing I learnt or did.  It is a thing I am.  Let any who would contest it step forward and we shall see with whose voice I speak.”

Another echoing silence.

“Then I have judged,” said Dis, “and in the name of the Mothers I name you fit.  Tomorrow the Feast of Finding.”

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The Feast was almost like any other, with the exception that all the males went masked, and the goal was for her to locate Kili among them while dancing and drinking, and only return to her table with him.  Luckily not many were as tall as Kili, or had his body type.  Soon she was in his arms, and she knew it despite the plain copper mask.  His arms felt right around her as they circled the floor.

“We may have a problem,” she whispered.  “I just saw Nori talk to the musicians.”

“It’s the corridor dance,” he said as the music changed and he led her to the end of one of the two lines forming, “we practiced that.”

“Correction, it is an excuse to do horrible dirty things to you in public and we have not practiced me not turning beet red.”

“Pretend it’s that night, after the other one.  Pretend we’re alone.”

The dance began, and it really was an excuse for Dwarrowdams to mock sex their partners.  When Chris and Kili hit the front of the line, she channeled all her pent up frustrations into her dance.  She spun out of his grasp, she slid behind him, brushing her chest across his back, only to playfully push him forward.  She tugged his shirt until they were plastered together and shimmied, she pushed him back only to have him drop to his knees.  She bent over and beckoned him to her and he followed to the end of the line, but before the music could stop, she pushed up his mask and planted one on him as he knelt before her.  He pulled the mask all the way off and loud hoots and cheers echoed along with the fallen metal.

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The next day was quieter, at least for Chris.  The Day of Family was spent with Dis, Fili and Thorin.  Kili spent it with Panarth, Roda and Rokur.  Everybody else spent it hung over or working on the next hang over, or both.  Chris mainly put the finishing touches on the final piece of Nori’s master plan, including a picnic up to Raven Loft where she could charge her batteries with the solar charger she’d brought back.

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The Day of Temptation was fun, but pointless.  She sat serenely in her hooded gown as warriors in tight pants and no shirts sparred for her, and as artisans displayed their wares.  It was nice, but pointless, since she could see Kili on the other side of the arena and was therefore distracted.

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The final day of the Days of the Six Mothers involved a big feast, some of which Chris had helped prepare, to show her craft, and a tipsy Panarth expounding on her virtues, until a less tipsy Rokur headed him off and took over.  It was supposed to be the day she got to show her ability, but most of her skills she claimed were hard to do at a party, and Chris felt like she was letting people down.

That’s when Katla got up and signaled Rokur to be quiet.  The abrupt end to his ramble drew eyes.

“I am Katla, daughter of Kitor.  The Lady wears many braids, but still is too modest.  I would say she has earned the braid of the Warrior’s Mastery.  Any who wish to claim otherwise may meet her apprentices.  FALL IN!”  Suddenly all of Chris’s students were in even ranks.  No one stood to challenge them.  They did a perfect drill turn to stand in front of her.  “Craftmaster, please inspect your students.”

Chris stood.  “I once heard some sage advice on the art of being a warrior.  I taught it to you.  Let’s see if you learned it.  You must be swift as a coursing river.”

All of her students completed the kata-strike pattern dance “Coursing River” designed to push an opponent back.

“With all the force of a great typhoon.”

Her students alternated a low leg sweep with jumping the neighboring leg as it came at them.

“With all the strength of a raging fire.”

Her students paired off and traded the sweeping blows of a strike they’d nicknamed the Forge, because of its power and ferocity.

“And mysterious as the dark side of the moon.”

“My cue,” said Katla, and the other students rushed her as she laid them out with the wheat-sack.

“You did well,” Chris said, nodding to her students on the ground.  “Katla, exactly how much did you bribe them to bum-rush you when they knew I’d given you permission to use that maneuver off the sand?”

“Nothing, Craftmaster.  I think they were hoping to use the counter we saw you use in the advanced lessons.  I’m not humble.”

“Try to be.  There is little point in a secret weapon that isn’t secret.”

“Understood.

“A toast to the Bride, may her strength never leave her!” called a voice she didn’t quite recognize. 

Sighing, Chris settled in to another day of endurance feasting.  *Not too bad,* she thought, *not too bad.*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out my tumblr for a picture of the hooded gown.
> 
> Also, the corridor dance is basically the Blues Stroll, which is an excuse to have hot domme action in public. Look it up and join all us filthy sinners who dance it.
> 
> Ten points to the person who can name the source of Chris's "sage advice"


	20. Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY! They get married, officially.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut next chapter, promise, like 2k of smut.
> 
> Boy this chapter kicked my butt. I had to include a plot bunny I had planned on ignoring. Also, ceremonial stuff is hard.
> 
> To KinPandun and InvalidUser

Kili’s set of challenges were a bit tougher, in theory.  He had seven days to show to her family’s satisfaction that he could care properly for her.  Seeing as how he was a prince with a claim on more gold than could feasibly be spent in ten lifetimes, it was less nail-biting.

The first of the Days of the Seven Fathers mirrored Chris’ Day of proving.  She snuck Fili the packet of elastic hair ties she’d seen Kili eyeing in the drugstore, to go under his beads.  Miraculously they kept the intricate braids in place when normally Kili’s hair escaped within minutes of being restrained.

Kili stood calmly as Rokur and Panarth questioned his braids for leather-work, archery, diplomacy and royalty.  His responses were similar to those Chris had given.

“I am leatherworker by Craft, in the tannery and crafthall lies my work, in the aid of my people lies my success.”

“I am archer by training, in bow and arrow and the skill of my hands lies my power, in the burned corpses of my people’s foes lies my success.”

“I am child to a diplomat, and in that blood and the teachings of wiser ones than I lies my strength, in the peace of my people lies my success.” 

“I am blood of Durin, heir of Longbeard decent, in my lineage lies my truth, and in the care of my people lies my success.”

“And I suppose an archer is to be given care of my daughter by oath?” Rokur asked, as they had practiced.  “A bow is no axe.”

“And I am no axe-woman, Oath Father,” Chris interrupted.  “I fight with hands and feet and very few limits.  There are those who have called my arts tricksome and dishonorable.  Mostly from the ground to which I laid them.  I will take an archer if he will take a scrapper.”

Kili smiled at her.  “And I would take a scrapper who can put my back to the sanded stone in a dozen ways, if that scrapper be you.”

“Fifteen, and you know it,” she teased.

“Then I have judged,” said Rokur, “and in the name of the Fathers I name you fit.”

“Just stop making those eyes at each other,” muttered Panarth.  “Tomorrow the Feast of Binding”

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The Feast of Binding was a test of how long the two could stay together.  Dis and Panarth bound Chris’ left wrist to Kili’s right with a woven band of blue and white ribbons before the dancing began, and many tried to pull the two apart, and although there was enough slack in the ribbon for them to dance separately, they did not.  Chris being left handed and Kili being ambidextrous with right dominance meant they wound up feeding each other, as it was hard to maneuver to eat regularly with their hands bound as they were.  The feast almost came to an abrupt end when someone tried to pull Kili off of Chris during a dance and Kili smoothly dropped into stance and executed a perfect Mugger Strike, leaving the Dwarf in question writhing on the floor.

“Oops.”  Kili looked at her with horror.

“Not bad,” Chris commented slowly.  “Your nose strike was off, remember, you have a problem with pulling to the left because of your draw arm, you need to compensate.”

“Are you two done discussing brawling techniques?” asked Dis.  “I want to dance.”

And like that, medics whisked away the moaning unfortunate and the crowd began to dance again, although fewer people tried to pull the couple apart.

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The next day, Kili brought forth some of his better leather work, including reinforced bracers made to fit Chris’ forearms.  Rokur examined them for form, but it was Panarth who judged their quality.  Chris slipped them on and drew them tight one handed, a thing only possible because of the cunning little clasps that let her set the straps to any length and fix them there.  Then she faced off against Panarth, wielding a hardened wooden stave.  Three hits that should have cracked bone in and she uppercut her cousin before taking the staff out of surprised hands.

“I _like_ these.  Can I have a formal wear version with some pretty embossing like on the bag?”

“What colors?”

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The fourth day was supposed to be an accounting of Kili’s net worth.  This was not as easy as it could be, since he owned literally one fourteenth of all of Thror’s treasure.  After long debate, it was decided that Dis, Thorin, Rokur, Panarth and a representative of the guild council would simply go and look at it, since the stuffy Guild Masters tended not to like skipping parts of tradition.  Upon entering the treasury, Kili pointed to a set of pillars.

“Pretty much everything from there to that wall.  Unless someone wants to trade a piece for something in their section.  Cataloguing got too hard and so we just divided by area.”

“That…is a lot of gold.”  Chris shared Panarth’s gape mouthed expression.

“And gems,” he added.

“And suddenly I’m less mad at Dis for the diamond tiara.”

“Speaking of, Kili also has a share in the south eastern diamond mine, but that isn’t liquid asset, its investment,” Dis told the stunned Guild Master.

“So, I’m willing to say he can keep her in comfort,” said Rokur.  “Panarth, thoughts?”

“She could rebuild Arnor with that, I’m sure.”

“But I wouldn’t.  Hobbits already have a perfectly good life going in that area, I wouldn’t want to disturb them.  Might suggest using some to build a few Embassy houses in strategically useful locations.  Minis Tirith, Greenwood, maybe in Rohan near Helms Deep.  Dale is too close and I’m not sure about Lothlorien’s political situation.  North Harad if we can swing it, I don’t want to leave them alone too long, they _are_ pretty close to an enemy stronghold, and I want them liking us more than him.”

“Fine, fine!  You made your point,” huffed the Guild Master.

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On the fifth day there was another feast, for some very old and respectable reason long since lost to history, but nobody cared because Kili had to pay for food and drink for it, and there was not a Dwarf in all Arda that would turn down free food and booze.  Reflecting on this, Chris felt the whole thing fit very well with Dwarves.  A long and respectable history, and a great desire to feast each other under the table whenever possible.

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On the sixth day, Kili showed off the home that he’d created for them.  It had been continued to be worked on during their ‘death’, as he’d paid in advance and none of the workers knew what to do other than keep going on the plans.  After Nori’s plan had full kicked into swing others came to help as well, adding more hands.  As a result, even far earlier than anticipated, the main living area was at least available for viewing, and their extended families had quite the fun time poking about at the large greeting room, and the smaller parlor and family dining room and (to Chris’ absolute delight) a huge kitchen of her very own.  When she saw the stacked ovens and two stove-tops, Chris squealed loudly and jumped into Kili’s arms to pepper his face with kisses before realizing her future mother in law was behind her.  Sliding down she turned to face Dis, her whole body flush with embarrassment.

“Er, that is, I find it very acceptable?”

Dis laughed.  “Had Vili been able to give me such a monument to my craft, I would have been wed two days early.”

“MOTHER!” both her sons gasped in horror.  Chris just chuckled.

“I’ll try to restrain myself.  Besides, sex should never occur in a food preparation zone, it’s unsanitary.”

“Very true my dear.  I’d advise not checking that cupboard there.  I’m not a cook by craft, but I’m fairly sure they’d have the same effect on you as the detailing files Vili gave me when we discovered Fili was on his way had on me.”

“That was a horrible time to share a wall with them,” remarked Thorin dryly.  “I practically lived at Fundin and Danma’s for three months.”

“S true,” Dwalin said.  “Over every night looking all haunt-faced.  I’m not sure if he was happier for the promise of a healthy heir, or for Oin telling them they needed to give it a rest to keep that promise a reality.”

“That was not something I needed to know about my parents,” Fili said.

“Your fault,” Kili said.

“Oh they did it with you, too,” Balin added.  “What was it, a set of inlay powders?”

“Didn’t care,” said Thorin.  “I saw him take a package up and I left.”

“Oh, Kili, I am loving Embarrassing Story Time,” Chris chuckled.

“I ever tell you about when my mother snuck into Kili’s room and sewed his night clothes on him?”

“No, and I feel we must remedy that at once.”

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The final of the Days of the Seven Fathers was spent, of course, feasting.  There were also games of skill and luck set up in addition to a dance floor, and Chris took great joy in hustling Kili at darts.  Sated with more food than she maybe should have eaten and a little tipsy, Chris let Panarth walk her back to her rooms to sleep it off.  Tomorrow, she was getting married.

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Chris woke slowly, and let Roda help her into her under shift and braid in all the needed braids, with the beads she’d been given by Dis to cap them off, and pulling them back from her face with a set of Mithril combs.  She left free the one family braid, and the loosely woven betrothal braid that would be removed later, and they framed Chris’ face.  Slightly more awake, Chris pulled her bag out from under her bed, removed a make-up pallet and brush set and did up her face, lining her eyes in khol, then using a brush, drew a thin line of Durin blue liquid liner at the very edge of the black.  Her lips got a light layer of Red Velvet, an expense she hadn’t wanted to leave at home.  Then, using a large kabuki brush she dusted gold and silver body shimmers over her face, neck, upper chest and hands.  On a sudden whim, Roda took the loaded brush and shook it out over her hair, ensuring it shone like the rest of what would be seen.

Chris carefully slid into the dress, now modified to include Durin blue panels with silver embroidery in the skirt, rendering it fuller, and the front of the bodice replaced with a blue velvet panel with the Durin Raven picked out in tiny seed pearls above the silhouette of the mountain.

Done up like a proper Dwarven Bride, she lowered her hood over her hair gently and met Rokur, Panarth, Nori and Dori, her honor guard, outside.  They proceeded to a chapel deep in the mountain, and people followed them.  Elsewhere, Kili would be doing the same.

Chris entered from one side of the chapel, and Kili the other.  Thorin and Dis sat on chairs flanking an anvil of stone.

Chris knew all the words and their meanings, knew the vows, but she barely heard them, looking at Kili. He seemed just as awed by her, but they both managed to say the right vows at the right times.

Kili’s hands shook as he vowed to love her always and rebraided her betrothal braid into a marriage braid.  Hers weren’t any steadier.

“The pair will now give their personal oaths.”

“My Kurdinh,” Kili began.  “I thank Mahal every day for the joy that meeting you has brought me, and I give my oath to attempt to bring you as much joy as you give me.  I swear to always listen to you, to always speak truly and clearly with you, to look every day for the things I love about you, even, no, _especially_ after we spar.  I swear to honor you in all that I do, and endeavor to never give you reason to question your choice.  I love you with all I am.”

“Kili, my dearest one, I could never speak the strength you give me, but know that I shall always be beside you, in all we do.”  Behind the chairs, Nori tapped a button on her music player and sound poured out of the strategically placed speakers.  Chris began to sing.

“My husband and beloved,  
My shieldmate and my guide.  
May my arm always defend you,  
And your honor lift you high.  
You are true and destined prince  
And my sword is by your side  
I will fight for you in glory  
'Till I die.

When the time for bloody war has come,  
Your right hand I will be.  
Where you lead, my prince, I'll follow,  
As we sweep to victory.  
You are true and destined prince  
And my sword is by your side  
I will fight for you in glory  
'Till I die.”

She turned to Thorin, still holding Kili’s hands.  
  
“We will keep the shieldwall fast, my king,  
That day our foes will die.  
My prince will be victorious,  
You will hear our battle cry.”

She turned back to Kili.

“You are true and destined prince  
And my sword is by your side  
I will fight for you in glory  
'Till I die.

May you sing the deeds of glory,  
Of your kinsmen gone away.  
May they see your glowing pride,  
If I should fall upon that day.  
You are true and destined prince  
And my sword is by your side  
I will fight for you in glory  
'Till I die.  
  
For you are true and destined prince  
And my sword is by your side  
I will fight for you in glory  
'Till I die.”

The last notes faded, but Chris couldn’t help but notice some changes she’d intended to make hadn’t happened.  She just hoped Mahal was done with her for a while.


	21. Wedding Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding night. 2k of smut, as promised. WARNING NSFW

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tam, I hope you're reading this because Kili muse would like to inform you he has to got game, it's just a slow, building up kind of game.

Kili had planned ahead, and so was able to slip the two of them away from the raucous celebrations as soon as he could, which was soon, with Fili and Ori providing cover and Nori helping to get them to the correct side hall.  Half way down the hall, just beyond the sounds of the singing and shouting of their wedding feast, Chris grabbed his shoulders and pushed him to the wall before locking lips.  The kiss was desperate and hungry, both of them urging the other on.  Chris got her hands under Kili’s bum and lifted him slightly against the wall to better fit their pelvises together as she ground into him, and Kili worked his nimble archer’s fingers into her hair, mussing her braids as he worked to feel the smooth strands.  She hissed when he tugged a little harder than intended and at first his eyes widened in worry until she dove back in with more passion, nipping at his lower lip.  He tugged again, and Chris moaned low in her throat as her hands clenched on his muscular hips, and she tilted his head to the side, nuzzling his neck before sucking deeply to leave a dark red mark onto the joining of neck and shoulder.

“Mine,” she growled, fierce and primal.

“Yes, always yours,” he agreed.  “But we do have a bed.”

“Too far,” she whined, matching her words with another grinding against his ever stiffening shaft.

“Do you,” he pulled in a hissing breath as she sucked a matching mark onto the other side of his neck, “really want our first time to be in a hallway where anyone could see us?”

“Everyone is feasting.”  She pulled at his shirt.

Kili laughed.  “Alright, my Kurdinh, a compromise.  I’ll bring you pleasure as we go.”  He scooped her up and worked one hand under her skirts, searching for her folds.  He encountered a barrier of silky cloth, but it was easily moved aside to access the damp warmth he sought.   She shuddered in his arms as he slipped a finger between the outer lips, running it through her slick juices.  He found and circled her pleasure-gem once before delving deeper, and she gasped and shook when he did, whining as he left it and moaning when his finger swirled in her inner depths.

Kili drew her pleasuring out as long as he could while carrying her, finding the spots she would moan at, would cause her to tremble and whimper when he touched them, determining the best firmness with which to tease and rub.  Chris in turn was clutching at him like he was her only solid ground in a turbulent sea as she mewled into his shirt every time he got her close.  As they neared their new home, he pushed them into a nook, set her on her feet and ducked his head under her skirts to lap up the rich liquor of her pleasure, making sure to lick and suck at her gem until she yowled and shook and her climax soaked his chin.  One last lingering lick had her whimpering as he pulled back.  Her eyes were wide and feverish as she kissed him again, plunging her tongue into his mouth, as though trying to savor the feast he had just made of her.

Once in the house, she pushed him into the wide armchair in the parlor, dropped to her knees and began tearing at his trousers.  Kili helped divest them, and she took his shaft in her hand, rippling her fingers over it in a way that made him even harder than he already had been.  Alternating tugging, squeezing, and stroking she was learning him as he had learned her, and in doing so she brought him so close to the precipice he could feel it, before gentling her strokes just enough to pull him back.

“You,” he panted, “are a cruel woman.”

“And the fifteen minutes of orgasm denial was what?” she asked as the soft and slow strokes were belied by a sharp gleam in her eye.

“A way to keep you occupied so we could get here?” he offered helplessly, straining to keep from bucking his hips in impatience.

“So now we’re here, what ever shall we do?” she asked with a wicked grin.

Before he could answer, her lips wrapped around him and she took him deep him her mouth.  He’d heard of the practice, but he’d thought it would be too unwieldy to do in this direction, since his length and girth were greater than the pleasure-gem on anyone.  His concerns were founded, it seemed when she pushed herself down on him with a touch more force and pulled back coughing.  He started to stop her, as she move back towards him.

“You don’t have to if this is too difficult for you.”

“Yeah?  We’ll see what’s too hard,” she smirked.

He was wrong about her capabilities, some distant fuzzy part noted as his ears roared with blood as she began to suck and tug and bob her head.  She lingered at the tip a moment, flicking her tongue over his slit.  After a deep breath she plunged down to the base of him and made a humming noise that reverberated throughout his body, before pulling back to the tip as he tried to warn her, but the precipice rushed at him too quickly, and he released his seed into her mouth, which she swallowed down, to his amazement, before diving back in to milk more from his twitching shaft.

“Gnugh.”  He struggled to get air enough to thank her for this astounding pleasure.  “Ungh, I…”

“That good, huh?” she asked, leering at him as she slowly lapped up the last drops from his tip.

“Merciful Eru, woman,” he gasped.  “More than good.”  She stood up, slowly undoing her bodice, leaving it behind on the floor as she headed to the stairs.

“When you can walk, follow the clothing,” she said from behind him.

Suddenly, and almost painfully, he was reinvigorated, although getting his legs steady took a moment.  He almost tripped on the stairs when he saw the blue satin and silver lace garment that had blocked him earlier laying quite innocently on the uppermost step.  The blue was almost black near the part that covered the joining of her thighs from the soaking it had received, and since he’d carefully held it out of the way during her climax, he knew that was from when she nearly killed him with her mouth just moments ago.  He stared, dumbstruck at that for a moment, trying to wrap his mind about the implications of that wet cloth.  The idea that his pleasure was so exciting to her made his heart race, and he broke free of it’s trance so he could sprint to the bedroom door, where a single sheer white stocking hung through the handle.

Inside, she was draped across their extra-large bed, clad only in a wicked smirk that promised to wring as much pleasure from him as she could. She leaned her head on one hand and used the other to stroke the bed furs.

“Join me?”

In lieu of answering, as if he could speak just then anyway, he crawled onto the bed and pulled her down over him to kiss her.  Now he understood her kiss from earlier, the salty musk on her tongue was a reminder of what they’d just done, what she had done for him.  It was intoxicating, like strong wine, that knowledge of what she would be willing, or by the speed she had gone to it with, even after choking at first, and the damp underclothes, _eager_ to do for his pleasure.  She was no Dwarrowdam to demand her own satisfaction over his, and a small rebellious streak in him wished to give her equal or greater than what she had given him.

She shifted slightly, pulling away for just a moment, and it seemed a moment too long until he realized that she was repositioning herself and his newly revived shaft into proper alignment, and when she sank her tight wet heat down on him he made a sound that might best be described as a desperate yell of incoherent need.

“Shh, I’ve got you.”  His Kurdinh, so kind and slow as she rocked her hips to his, mindful of the sensitivity of his shaft’s recent use.  He almost felt like weeping it was so gentle and sweet. His hips rose to meet her on one of her down strokes, and her eyes widened as her mouth formed an ‘o’ that reminded him of before and he twitched inside her, prompting a faster, frantic pace.

“Please, please,” she begged almost unintelligibly, “so close, soclose, oh, YES!”  She clenched around him and his world narrowed to just the clenching warmth and soaking wetness at the spot of their joining and her cry of “KILI!!” as he crossed the edge once more.

When the world came back, the two were tangled together, sweating profusely and breathing hard.

“Love you Kurdinh,” he said, reverently stroking her hair, now thoroughly unkempt and wild, free for him to tangle his fingers in.

“Love you too.  That was, that…”

“I’m not sure there are words in any language for what that was.  I had no idea…”

“Will it always be like that with us?” she asked him.

“Maybe, I’ve gotten conflicting reports.”

“I hope it will.”

“As do I, Kurdinh.  As do I.”

“Let’s see,” she smiled at him.

“I’m not sure I could rise to the task again so soon, beloved.”

“You let me worry about that,” she said and crawled to the head board of the bed, using it for balance as she swung a leg over his body as if mounting a horse.  “I assume your tongue still works?”

Catching on, he helped guide her as she lowered onto his face, allowing him to feast upon her once again.  Now that he knew her body’s responses, it was simple to tease and dance his tongue about her most sensitive spots, slowly building her up to her peak, and then keep her there.  Her cries echoed even to his ears, blocked as they were by her clenching thighs.  He worked to keep her climax going as long as he could, but when the cries faded to gasping sobs, he stopped to let her rest.  She sat back on his chest lightly, still holding the head board to remain up.  Her head rolled forward, and he could see the closed eyes and flushed face of exertion on her as she panted.

“So.”  She took a deep breath.  “Fucking.”  Another.  “Good.”

“I’m not done pleasuring you yet, Kurdinh,” he said to her, and one eye opened to look at him quizzically.  “As you wisely noted, my tongue and hands yet work.”

He brought a finger up to slide into her slick opening, seeking the spot that had driven her to such a frenzy earlier.  When he found it, she moaned hoarsely, and he reapplied himself to sucking and licking her gem as he rubbed the tender spot that gave her such pleasure.  Soon he added a second finger, to her great enjoyment if the increase in pressure around his head was an indicator.  She shook and roared in her ecstasy as he pulled another long and lingering climax from her, and when she went lax above him, he lowered her gently to the bed.  She still trembled in fits as he got her one of the pillows that had fallen aside, but the shaking abated as he drew up a sheet to cover her damp body before it got too chilled.  Her eyes fluttered and a low rasp of a sound that could have been his name passed her lips before she curled into his arms and fell asleep.  As he followed her to slumber a comforting warmth spread in his heart, knowing this would be their future together.


	22. Unexpected in the best way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shh! Spoilers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To KinPandun and BabeRuthless87

Kili entered their bedroom holding a bowl of fruit.  Chris lazily shifted in the bed to better appreciate the anti-clothing stance her new husband had taken to these past weeks.  He plucked a peach from the bowl and passed the rest to her.  She popped a grape in her mouth and savored its juicy sweetness.  Glancing at Kili had her concerned, though.  He was sitting on the edge of the bed looking at the peach, but not eating it.

“Mamarralun, what’s wrong?”

“Sooner or later we need to go back out and face them.  Probably sooner, our food stores are low.”  He looked at her.  “I don’t want this to end.  Every night I fall asleep thinking I’ll wake and this was only a dream.”

“I do to, and every night I promise myself that if it is, I’ll track down Irmo, or Morpheus or Ārohirohi and kick their asses up around their ears until somebody puts me back where I belong.  Here, with you.”  She kissed him on the cheek.  “Besides, you’re right, we need to go back to our jobs.  I’m pretty sure they’re wondering if they should mount a search and rescue operation by now.”

“They wouldn’t dare.  Dwarven couples often go into seclusion for a couple of weeks after marriage, it’s normal.”

“Kili, sweetheart, how long do you think we’ve been in here?”

“Um, several days, a week maybe?”

“It’s been twenty-two days.  I don’t know what you mean by ‘several’ but I know I certainly don’t mean twenty-two.”

“TWENTY-TWO!?!”

“Orgasm time loss.  That’s also normal.  I just remembered to look at the clock to keep track.  I’m only a week out from that time when some of our favorite activities become a no-go.  I wanted to be able to warn you.”

“What, oh your moon cycle. I can see how that would be uncomfortable.”

“And messy.  Thank whatever god-like beings may be listening for the jumbo pack of tampons.  And I’m still going to be rationing those for travel and the like.”

Kili squinted, remembering something.  Then he flushed and coughed.  Chris giggled at him and he stuck his tongue out.  She popped another grape in her mouth with a cheeky grin and slid off the bed in a swift slide of satin sheets, not caring that half of them wound up on the floor.  After what they’d been through, they’d need to be boiled at the least.  She was super happy with the last minute addition of their own private bathtub complete with water piped up from the warrior’s hot springs and she had every intention to make full use of it to get clean before facing life as Erebor’s first human princess.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Life as a full-fledged Princess didn’t change much for her.  She went to slightly more council meetings, and Guild arbitration meetings, and visited with a few more high born Dams over tea than she would have, but otherwise all was the same.  Her training hours with her students were cut back severely, which irked, but she still had time to sweep in on Dwalin’s classes for surprise drills from time to time, and her own training continued unimpeded.  Her skill with a sword was probably as good as it was going to get, but her knife-work lessons with Fili and Nori showed constant improvement, and Bifur had her turning her staff knowledge into spear and glaive proficiency.

A week later, she was rubbing bruise cream into her thigh when Kili came home from paperwork.  She could tell because he always had a little wrinkle in his brow from that, and he smelled like ink.  He sat beside her on the bed and took the jar to hold it for her.  Having both hands let her cover the spot Bifur’d gotten a lucky shot through with the butt of his spear much faster.  When she was done, she tried to take the jar, but Kili was already stoppering it and putting it away.  He also brought her a sandwich, which was thoughtful of him, she’d had no appetite at the tea that afternoon.  Lady Bestla wore far too much perfume, and it wasn’t even a kind that smelled good.

“As sweet as you’re being, I’m beginning to worry,” she told him over her third bite of turkey and farmers cheese.

“Worry?  What’s to worry?”

“Kili, my love, you either mucked something up proper that you need me to fix, or you have bad news, or both.  You and I both know that’s when you add the dried cranberries to this sandwich.  What’s wrong?”

“Nothing!  Nothing’s wrong.  Everything is great, wonderful.  Why don’t you lie down a bit, I’ll rub your feet?”  She put her feet in his lap as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Ok, now I _know_ you fucked up and fucked up good.  Who are we about to be at war with?”

“No-one, I swear.”

“Then why are you waiting on me hand and quite literally foot?”

“Ah, you mentioned your moon time about a week ago.  And, well, I think I’d notice if…but you haven’t and…”

“Kili, lots of women miss one here or there, especially if under stress, and did you _see_ the calendar Balin had for me?  He’s trying to make up the time lost on our honeymoon.”

“So you don’t think it’s….”

“It might be, but Dis said Dwarven conception was difficult, and nobody’s ever heard of a half Dwarf half Man baby, so we don’t even know if it’s possible.  It’s far more likely that I got soft and lazy while we were humping like rabbits, and now my schedule has shut me down due to stress, and next month will be heavy to make up for missing this one.”

“Alright.  If you’re sure.  I can ask Balin to lighten your load, if you want.”

“So can I.  You’re fretting over nothing, I’m sure I’m fine.  Now, are you going to keep fretting or are you going to come enjoy your very horny, very naked wife?”

“Second option, definitely.”

“Smart guy, you.”

A few weeks later, a letter from Rivendell arrived on her desk as she was taking her turn as court diplomat to all things Elven.  Inside, she discovered she’d given Panarth just enough to know to contact Rivendell, because Gilraen addressed her as cousin in her invitation.  The Royal Family or Delegates were invited to Rivendell, open ended.  Gilraen wanted to meet her, and let little Estel get to know his family, those that were unlikely to influence him off his path.  So Panarth had let slip a few things, she mused.  It certainly would be fascinating, to meet Aragorn’s mother, and see where the Council of Elrond would one day be held.  But there were matters at home that needed tending.  She composed and wrote the reply letter herself, letting Gilraen know it might be a while before they could manage it, sealed it and sent it off with a runner to go to the Ravens.  It was faster, and Kelegrafn liked Elves.  Tauriel had given her the name, meaning swift-wing.

Glancing at her clock, she realized she’d missed luncheon, and with Kili down in Dale sorting a trade snaggle, no one had come to remind her.  Laughing at her own workaholic tendencies she stood to grab a summer apple from the bowl they kept in their shared office for just such a reason.  She contemplated going to filch some cheese from the kitchens, but her stomach rolled, so she just ate her fruit and went over yet another trade proposal to the Woodland Realm from the Dyers Guild with a firm editing hand.  When were these people going to realize Thranduil had thousands of years of experience at this and would not fall for these loopholes that so obviously favored Erebor.  Sending it as was would be an insult.

Near on two months from her wedding, Chris caught the flu.  She was surprised she hadn’t gotten sick earlier, what with no immunity to any Ardan bugs.  She spent a week retching into a bucket every three hours like clockwork and fluctuating between too hot and too cold and craving the strangest things.  Finally she gave in to Kili and let him fetch Oin, who fluttered and hmm’d and poked her until she snapped at him.

“What’s wrong and is it terminal, Oin?”

“Oh, well, that is, I should say…”

“Out with it, damn you!”

“It’s not so much a matter of wrong, and it shouldn’t kill you, Mahal and Eru willing, but I’m afraid you’ll have to be off your feet a bit more.”

“What are you talking about.”

“Lass, I’m the wrong kind of doctor.  You’ll be wanting the midwife, but I can say this much, you’re pregnant.”

“WHAT!”

“Bout since when you got married.  Marriage night babe, it’s a good portent.”

“I want a second opinion.”

The second doctor said as much as Oin had, plus a bit more, since she had a secondary specialty in midwifery.  Including an estimate of when Chris would give birth.

“A YEAR!!”

“Technically, your Highness, thirteen moons since approximate time of formation.  Which means you only have eleven more to go.”

“But I’m of the race of Men, we do this in ten.  Won’t I…split the difference?”

“You might, you might give birth in eight moons, but the longest would be eleven.”

“I really wish I had something to throw at you.”

“That’s a common reaction, you’ll feel better once the babe is here.”

“Stop being so reasonable.  And tell my husband his child wants the pickled watermelon from the cold cabinet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know where to find me.
> 
> Irmo, Morpheus, and Ārohirohi are all dream gods/spirits in Ardan, Greek, and Maori myths respectively.
> 
> Also, yes, ten is correct, the nine month mark is from first missed period, not conception.
> 
> Now let the betting on gender and time of birth commence.


	23. Pregnancy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What it says on the tin. Snapshot-style, because I don't want to write a whole pregnancy fic and that's what this would turn into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tigrislilium and KinPandun.

Kili’s family was ecstatic over the news.  Fili got especially frantic, until his mother told him to try to remain calm, citing that it was better for the baby.

“You never distract a master in his workshop, my son, why would you risk upsetting such a fragile piece of work as making a baby?  Go and get us some, what was it the child wanted?  Pickled watermelon?”

“Never again,” Chris moaned.  “But that was last week.  Carrots and the spicy chickpea dip this week.  Make up your mind you little epicurean snob,” she told her abdomen.

“Get carrots and spicy chickpea dip for your nephew, Fili.”  He raced out of the room.

“It’s not really bad for the baby at this point, but I love both my sons and I don’t want you murdering him yet.”

“That’s good to know.  Why did you say nephew?  We have no way of knowing yet do we?  Dis, are you holding out on me?”

“Relax, child.  I’m sure Oin could give you portents, but it’s unlikely they’ll be any more accurate.  It was just an educated guess because of our population.  One that’s fairly standard, actually.  It’s bad luck to presume Mahal will give you a girl-babe.”

“Is that why Kili insisted we keep this quiet?  I don’t mind, I certainly want to minimize the fussing, but it seemed like a Royal baby, even one that can’t inherit, would be one of those ‘go sing it from the mountain’ things.”

“A Royal baby, yes, a Royal pregnancy, when too many things can go wrong, no.  Family knows, so that we can better care for you, but no one else.  No need to get the peoples hopes up if it might go wrong.”

“It won’t,” Chris insisted as she rapped the wood of her chair arm.

“You do that, I’ve noticed.  Why?”

“Superstition.  If you make a statement about things going well you knock on wood to wake the tree spirits up to make sure that happens.  Actors will tell each other to break a leg, so they don’t invite irony to turn a wish for good luck into bad.”

“Ah.”  Fili returned with the carrots.  A little while later he fetched a bucket when the baby decided that wasn’t what they had wanted after all.  Dis passed Chris a bottle of a drink like ginger ale that had enough basic nutrients to keep her going even with all the puking.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“I don’t need a secretary, Balin.” Chris fixed him with a glare.

“Yes you do,” he rebutted unperturbed.  “You have too much important work to do to reply to all your correspondence personally, and Oin and Frai want you to take more time to rest.”

“Fine, but if it was written by a child, I still want to write the response.  It matters, even if you think trade negotiations with Rohan are more important.  And don’t yank me off the meetings suddenly.  Ease me off, so when I start to show more than a gown can hide, it won’t seem strange that I’m hardly ever out and about.”

“I understand, and I’m sure your scribe will as well, seeing as I took the presumption of hiring your sister.”

“Oh, well if it’s Roda, of course.”

“And her apprentice, she took on one a few days ago.”

“I remember, I’m pregnant, not an amnesiac.”

Sabsi was a truly efficient planner and organizer, to the point of being slightly scary with it.  Honestly, it wasn’t even that she was such a good scribe, she was decent, but her talent lay in getting things arranged so everything was much easier on the person expected to use the space, and then returning it to that order when the task was finished.  Chris muttered about House-Elves as Sabsi disappeared a stack of papers so she had a clean desk, and then shook her head when Roda cocked an eyebrow.  There was no way she was going into Harry Potter with her friend when she didn’t have the books.  They’d been a calculated loss.  It was better to save the tablet space for things she’d use.  And you don’t, as she’d discovered, really need fantasy novels when you live in one.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Kili, it’s the middle of the night, what are you doing?”

“Talking to bunnanunê, you go on back to sleep.”

“Kili, I’m not even showing.  Our baby is the size of a pea and doesn’t have ears.”

“Don’t care, go back to sleep.”

“You are such a dork.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Kili, I can’t get the gown on.  I’m due at a meeting in half a bell and the gown won’t close.  How do you even shrink brocade?”

“Kurdinh, it’s not the gown getting smaller-”

“Call me fat and our kid grows up an only child,” she snapped in irritation.

“No, Ghivashel, it’s not you, it’s the baby getting bigger.  The baby just happens to be inside you.  I’ll send a runner to Balin, he can handle this until we get some gowns made that can handle the baby.”

“Oh, Kili, I hate this,” she cried as she leaned into him.  “I should be happy, but I’m either angry or sad.  All the time.  It’s exhausting.”

“Go lay down, I’ll have Roda and Sabsi bring you what you need for the day."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Deep in the Underhalls, a plain dwarf with only a handsome nose to recommend him took keen watch as rumors circled quietly.  The Princess had not been seen at court functions for a fortnight, and spies in the upper levels reported her attendance at councils was spotty at best.  The dwarf hid a smile in his ale he wasn’t actually drinking as a table toasted the prosperity of the Prince’s diamond mine, knowing full well they could care less about Kili’s diamonds.  He laid a moderate tip, not enough either way to be remembered, and went to check on a gambling den he’d heard had some wagers running.  Dwalin was running down a spore dealer, he’d be just as late as Nori, and could help wash the sticky brown dye out.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Chris awoke from her nap to hear a crashing sound downstairs.  Snatching the glaive from the weapons rack, she went down stairs.

Fili and Thorin looked up at the sound of a cough, to see the most frightening thing any Dwarrow could face.  A heavily pregnant Dam with a polearm, standing on her stairs with one eyebrow up.

“We can explain-”

“It is not what it-”

“Is that a _gold_ cradle?” she interrupted their denials.

“No, gold is far too soft and melts too easily,” Fili said.  The eyebrow went higher.  “This is an alloy of-”

“Don’t care, take it away.”

“But-”

“Brother, your youngest irakdashat is not ready to be king,” Dis called from the kitchen where she’d been baking a traditional mild flat bread that most expectant Dams could stomach, which held more nutrition for the baby than ordinary breads.  “So get the cradle back in the treasury.  Now.”  The two trapped Dwarves shared a look and beat a hasty retreat.

“A glaive?  Really dear?”

“My center of gravity moved and I’m not good enough with knives yet.”

“Tch, remind me to get you a boar spear, much more effective when laden with child.  The batch’ll be done in a few moments; you want more spice beer?”

“Yes please, Dis.”  She paused.  “And some of the butter cookies from the blue tin.  I need to pee.  _Again_.”

“That’s normal dear.”

“I hate you Dis.”

“I love you too, child.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Soon it was Kili’s turn to be awakened by unusual activity by his spouse.  A clattering sound from down the hall drew him to the mostly unused study, where Chris was trying to shift a desk of heavy wood with a hip, as she was so pregnant pushing with her hands forward would have been awkward.

“Ghivashel?  What are you doing?”

“Making room, it occurred to me we never use this room, we both have offices, but it’s right near ours so we could hear if the baby was crying if we turn it into a nursery.  If I can just get this desk out, we can put the cradle here, and a changing table over there, by the book case, which we can put bedtime books and the toys and diaper things in baskets on the shelves, and maybe get a rocking chair…why are you looking at me like I grew a second head that speaks Urdu?”

“It’s the middle of the night, and you need sleep, this can all wait until morning.”

“I might need sleep, but tell that to the holy terror in my womb, kicking me.”  She glared at him.

“Kurdinh, at least let me move the heavy things.  We don’t want the baby getting more excited than they already are.”

With a sigh, she moved to the large reading chair and sat down.  “He gets all the energy from your side you know.”

“I’m aware, Mother informs me I shall father the child I earned growing up.  Maybe I should have warned you.”

“If I can deal with one reckless lil shit, Kili, I can handle a second, smaller one.  I just wish the kicking would stop.  Here, feel.”  She took his hand and laid it on her belly.  He smiled as she winced when the baby kicked hard.

“Strong one, there.  We’re going to have a little warrior.”

“Or tea-drinking tailor, don’t forget Dori’s pretty strong, and he’s not much for fighting.  He can, he prefers not to.”

“This is a child of Durin’s line,” Kili rolled his eyes.  “We never have sensible firstborns, that’s what the younger siblings and cousins are for, to give the older ones someone to watch after, to teach us to be responsible.”

“Suddenly so much about you and your brother makes sense.”

“Low blow, Kurdinh, low blow.  Where did you want the desk?”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“Are you certain about this?” Roda asked her.

“Yellow in the baby’s room?  Of course, it’ll lighten it up.  No," she scolded the decorators Kili'd hired. "I said put the tapestry with the _mountain_ by the crib, the battle scene can go in storage, honestly, it's a nursery.  It'll give the child nightmares, or worse, _ideas_.”

“Not the baby’s room, Chris,” Roda dragged her away from the preparations in the nursery.  “I mean, the diplomatic contingent from Rohan. They’re due in a fortnight, and at earliest reckoning, _you_ might be due a month after that.  Can you secure an alliance in time to go into seclusion for the time you might give birth?”

“Fengel is a greedy man, Roda.  A casual glance at even our poorest markets will have him drooling for an alliance.  I can still wrap a man like that about my little finger nine months in.”

“I have word from Nori’s Crows, he isn’t coming, he sent his son, Thengel.”

“Even better, he’ll be king soon and it’s good to have continuity.”

“Do you even know anything about him?”

“He disagrees with his father, is fluent in Sindarin, but not Rohirric, spent a long time in Gondor and is generally a fair and just ruler.  Also, he has a daughter, and will either be expecting or soon to expect a second child, who will be a boy.  He’s seen pregnant women before and will likely treat me with caution like a fragile vase, which will annoy the ever-lovin’ crap out of me, but works in our favor.”  Chris shrugged.  It wasn’t like she didn’t know how to do this.

“All of that is book knowings, and those aren’t as reliable,” her friend hissed at her.

“Hush, now, the painters aren’t Inner Council, Roda.  I can do this.  I know it.  Why don’t you believe me?”

“I trust you, it’s those men I don’t.  We have good reasons for hiding our Dams when strange Men come around.  Unless they know they need us for more than it’s worth….”

“Roda, I’m not a Dwarrowdam.  I couldn’t fake being male even without the spawn in my womb making me the size of a blue whale.  And being of the Race we’re negotiating with puts me at an advantage nobody else has.  I can’t send them back anyway, like you said, fortnight, and they arrive.  Genie’s out of the bottle, Roda.”

“Even knowing where that phrase comes from, it still makes my point, you’ve been slipping into old speech patterns, and I’m not sure we can pull the same ore twice from the ‘prophet’ mine.”

With a sigh, Chris looked at her friend, her sister.  “You aren’t worried about negotiations, you’re worried about me.”

“Of course I am, pyrite-head.  You’re the first person in known history to birth a half Dwarven half Man baby.  There aren’t even words for that, I looked.  Closest I came was making up a word.”

“Like Dwobbit?”

“What?”

“Half Dwarf half hobbit, there’s a lot of speculation, you know, never mind.”

“The word is Amlâkhuzd, I used the front root for our word for half elven, but swapped the end root that meant elf for khuzd, meaning Dwarf.  That’s not even in any of our writings on a language we hold sacred, and if Mahal himself hadn’t blessed this union, I wouldn’t dream of meddling with it.  That’s how new this whole idea is, and I’m terrified.”

“I’m not,” Chris said with a grin.  “You know why, you said it, just a moment ago, Mahal blessed the union.  Went out of His way to preserve it, demanded it be given a safe home.  I can’t see any being that powerful going to those lengths, and letting me die in childbirth.”

“That should reassure me, but it doesn’t.  I want to wrap you in about a dozen thick blankets and demand you stay in bed.”

“Of course you do Roda, you’re my sister.”

“Just don’t tax yourself during the visit.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bunnanunê means my little treasure, for those who are interested.
> 
> You know where to find me.


	24. Arrivals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Many people arrive in the same morning, and Chris has forgotten something important.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To tigrislilium

Chris stood beside Kili in heavily modified royal attire.  She twitched the blue brocade and white velvet over her pregnant middle.  “I feel like we forgot something.”

“We didn’t, and if we had, Balin, Ori, or Dori would have reminded us,” soothed her husband.  He himself was in a Durin blue surcoat with white fur trim at the arms, and a shirt of fine scale maille, made with such delicacy that the steel seemed to be cloth of silver.  Katla, in the uniform of the Royal Guard, her new rank worked into the braids that ran across her scalp, stood to Chris’ other side and behind, as Toki did beside Kili.  They watched the caravan make it’s way up to the gate, where the traditional diplomatic supplication would happen.

Chris had never seen Thengel, but he seemed like a slightly younger version of Theoden.  Well, Theoden not under Grima’s control, obviously.  His horse was an absolute beauty, a roan mare with black mane and tail.  He sat tall and proud as he called up to them.

“Your Highnesses, I am Thengel, son of Fengel, Lord of Rohan.  I have come with my men to treat with Erebor for peace and alliance with her.”

“We know of you, Prince Thengel,” Chris spoke clearly.  The welcoming balcony took the acoustics of the mountain into account, there was no need to strain her voice.  “Be welcome, you and your men, to Erebor, for we too wish peace and alliance with Rohan.  Our stable masters will greet you inside, as it is said a Horse Lord of Rohan sees to his mount’s rest before his own.  And, there are stairs we must take.”  The last she said a bit wryly, a hand on her distended belly.  She could see Thengel chuckle.  Not a bad start.

Down the stairs, which were no fun at all in her shape, they met the Rohan delegation.  Kili stepped forward to offer his hand in the fashion of Men, and received a hearty clasp from Thengel and his aides.  Chris winced as she stepped up to greet them, the baby sure was athletic, that last kick hurt.  Her offered hand had air kisses bestowed on it by three of the four main delegates, but after sizing up the tall lean one she switched hands and slid her grip up onto his arm, as one Man would do with another.  He stilled.

“I’ve a brother who favors knives.  That one was not meant for hiding.  I’ll arrange to have you meet the smith that does his wrist knives, much slimmer profile.”

“Your Highness, I can explain….”

“No need,” she waved him off.  “This mountain is full of Dwarves.  If you think that knife or the one in your boot will offend with anything other than the quality of their make, you’ve never met a dwarf.  Most feel naked without a weapon.”  She grimaced.  *Would you settle down?  Mommy is trying to secure an alliance,* she thought at her unborn child.

“Yet you go without one, Princess,” Thengel observed.  “If it would make you feel better to have a weapon I would not take offence.”  Katla snorted.  Chris gave her the stink-eye, but it was too late.  “Does aught amuse, Master Dwarf?” Thengel asked in the pleasantly neutral tone Chris knew to mean danger.  She was about to respond when another kick had her closing her mouth, leaving Katla open.

“The Princess carries no weapon, my Lord, for she herself is a weapon.  Disarming her is a bit more literal than it is for most.”

“Also, I’m a barge right now,” Chris pointed out.  “I need a boar spear to compensate, and I don’t own a formal boar spear.  I could carry my nice glaive, but then my mother in law would be at me again about the superiority of a spear whilst bearing a child.”

“My mother has strong opinions on the subject, and with two children, she gets listened to,” Kili added.

“Ah,” Thengel remarked.  “My own wife used her pregnancy as a reason to lay down and have me fetch and carry.  I can’t imagine her with a spear, boar or otherwise, but perhaps it’s only that my family has women disinclined to weapons.”

Chris hid a chuckle at Éowyn’s grandfather under a cough, and the baby kicked her again.  In the bladder.  Oh dear.  Wait.  That wasn’t her bladder.  “Kili, dear, fetch Frai will you?”

“What?”  He looked at her with concern.

“My water just broke.  Prince Thengel, would you mind helping Katla get me to a bench?”

“You’re a month early!  I thought there was some kind of warning!”

“I thought your son was being rambunctious.  I may have been having contractions for the better part of the morning.”

“Hammer and coal,” Kili swore.  “I’ll, uh, I’ll fetch Frai.  And Oin, and my mother should be here, and…drat, I think your sister is in Dale.”

“No she isn’t, just get Frai.  Honestly, Kili, _I’m_ the one who will shortly be expected to push new life out from between my nethers, if anyone here gets to panic, it’s me, so calm down.”

Kili nodded once before bolting.  Toki had to run to keep up, he moved so quickly.  Thengel helped Katla get Chris to a deep stone bench outside the Hall of Kings.  Then he went sort of green and the knife wielder pushed him aside.

“Don’t mind him, your Highness, near about fainted when his wife did this.  I’m eldest of six, and I’ve helped birth my share of foals, if you’ll pardon the horse comparison.”

“You’re Rohirrim, I take it as a complement.”

“As you should, a mare birthing a foal is a tremendous task that requires great strength.”

“I’ve never been so glad I inherited my mother’s wide hips in my life,” she panted after a long pain gripped her middle.  She was sure her screams could be heard across Erebor.

“Breathe easy, Highness.”

“I think this is what they call the equivalent of a formal introduction, Horse Lord, call me Chris,” she said pleasantly before letting loose a stream of foul language, mostly directed at the absent father of the child with bad timing.

“Those were some impressive curses, Chris, I don’t think they were all Westron.  I’m Hama”

“I traveled a lot in my youth.  Nice to meet you, Hama.”

“You as well, tell me more about that smith?”

“Sure, brilliant steelworker, Tovi Ironspine, she’s called.  Made half my blades, Lady Dis’ favorite formal battle axe, practically all Prince Fili’s newer knives, the ones not heirlooms.  Equips our Spymaster, too.  Very versatile, and her blades hold an edge like you would not _believe_.  I can chop right through a bone-in haunch, then fillet a tomato with the same blade.  I _love_ the cooking knives Kili had her make for me.  Enough that the gift may be possibly partially responsible for....”  She waved a hand at her abdomen.  Then she let loose a curse that turned into a wail and then a whimper as Frai got there.

“How soon between has it been?” she asked in a businesslike way.

“Pretty close, if she were a horse, I’d say time to put a hand on the belly and ease the foal out.”

“Let me check to see, if you wouldn’t mind turning, Horse Lord….”

“Of course,” he said as he averted his gaze and moved to block the action from his fellows who were standing awkwardly to the side.  Hama rolled his eyes.  “Oh for the Valar’s sake, it’s just like a foaling.”

“Mares don’t swear like that,” said Ceorl, a nice enough boy, but a bit young for this, in Hama’s opinion.

“Most mares don’t swear at all, and the lady is in a great deal of pain, she’s entitled.”

“We’re ready, Chris,” said Frai from under the lady’s skirt.  “Push, like we talked about.”

“Where’s Kili?” she yelled.

“Here, Ghivashel, I’m here, I had to go stop a bunch of outraged Dwarves who thought you were being murdered.  You have good lungs, the lower markets heard you compare me to a donkey’s posterior.  I think that’s what convinced them I was telling the truth about the birth being early.”

“I’m in the middle of the miracle of life and you went to stop a _riot_?”

“Uh, yes?”

“I love you. Watashi wa, anata o aishiteimasu.  Je t'aime. Te amo. Ich liebe dich.  Aroha ahau ki a koutou. E amrali astu.”

“I love you to, now do as the midwife says.”

“Push, Princess!”

“STOP CALLING ME THAT!!!”  Kili grabbed her hand and took the crushing she gave it without complaint as his beloved screamed.  It seemed the horror would never end when her hand went slack and Frai pulled a cloth from her bag to wrap the impossibly tiny child in.

“Congratulations, your Highnesses,” she said as she tied off the birth cord.  “The baby seems to be in good health and… appears to be a girl.”

“A daughter?  On the first go?” Fili asked from where he’d run up from a council meeting.

“My wife is the best wife,” Kili told him confidently.

“Your wife’s not done yet, Kili, give me your hand.”

“It’s not a contraction Highness, just after birth,” Frai reassured.

“Placentas don’t kick.  Someone get ready to catch the second one.”

“Second?” chorused the Dwarves.  Seeing they wouldn’t move, Hama pushed Frai aside gently and assumed a catching posture he’d seen midwives use to catch his youngest sister.  Before he could be stopped, Chris screamed, crushed Kili’s hand, and Hama had his hands full of a Dwarven babe.  Frai snapped out of her confusion, tied the cord to cut it, and cleaned the babe and wrapped him.

“Boy,” Hama said.  “Gentleman enough to let the lady go first.”

“Apologies for this interruption, your Highness, this happened earlier than anticipated,” Chis told Thengel as she took her daughter.  She looked like a Durin, that was for sure.

“Babies have a tendency to happen on their own time,” reassured the Rohirrim Prince.  “Have you picked names?”  Chris went whiter than a sheet.

“Bugger it all, I knew we forgot something!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feed back is muse chow, feed the muse, you know you want to....


	25. The 'should have seen it coming' Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the start of the (now much extended) visit of the Rohirrim, told from Chris and co.'s POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For KinPandun

Naturally enough, the news of the fantastically rare double birth tore through the Mountain.  Chris resigned herself to the month or so of feasting and partying.  Now she just had to explain why she needed to delay the negotiations to Thengel.

“So, you see, it’s just that if we try this the normal way, I’m going to need to take frequent breaks from talks just to go get toasted by a Guild, or a school, or something.  That’ll take forever, it’ll be easier if you all just join in.  We’re even inviting our nearest neighbors for this, they’d be hurt if we didn’t.  Just, take some time to get to know my people, while they let the joy out of their systems, then we can get down to business when they’re sleeping it off.”

“I suppose that is for the best.  I was sort of wondering why they all seemed so… merry.”

“I had a daughter on the first try, I’m pretty much Dwarrow-Luthien at this point.  I’m just waiting for someone to ask me to turn water to wine or weave a magic flying carpet out of my hair or something.  It’s ridiculous at first glance, but it’s how they think of me now.”

“It was your daughter, I thought it was the twins?”

“Both, but the daughter cinched it.  Girl babes are rare here, and considered good luck and a sign of the Favor of Aule.”  Rolling her eyes she found the nearest raw stone.  “Not that I needed another, thanks,” she muttered at a stone pillar nearby.

“Another daughter?”

“No, I um, I was talking to the raw stone patch there, it’s where we look when we address Him, raw stone, uncut.  He’s… been more of a presence than strictly enjoyable.  Helpful, but….”  She shrugged.

“Ah.”

“Anyway, feast tonight, formal dress, don’t let anyone drink the brew in the red casks.”

“What?”

“It’s a mushroom based alcohol, Men don’t react predictably, it’s safest to just let the Dwarrow hog that, and drink the safer things.”  She winced.  “I need to go feed my children.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Feeding the babies had become a group event, as each family member jockeyed for a spot that would let them help.  Chris got over the public-ish feedings because letting someone feel like they won the lotto because they got to burp them was worth it.  Thorin had already gone into a council meeting with spit-up on his tunic and a dopey grin on his face.  Chris had gotten there just after him with a burp rag.

“We have these for a reason, Thorin,” she scolded as she cleaned his shoulder.  “Where’s the grumpy majesty, come on, it’s in there somewhere, aren’t you upset at getting puke on your shirt?”

“I got to burp the thundanûdith, how could I be anything but happy?”

Chris rolled her eyes.  “Softy.  You are so ni amrâl aya.”

Lord Jarin coughed from the table.  “Bakn galikh, Uzbadnâtha,” he greeted her formally.

Suddenly reminded of her place in the council room, she blushed.  “Bakn galikh, my Lord.  Apologies for the intrusion.”

“Nonsense, dear.  How are the little ones?”

“Very well, I think.  They sleep a lot, except at night or when I need my hands free, of course.  I’m told that’s normal for a healthy child.  Our girl looks more like her father every hour, I swear.  But I got the hair, the line of O’Malley has not lost the copper hair.”

“With the… visitors, have you considered bringing the outer-name ceremony up a bit?  They keep asking if you’ve named them, it’s very rude.”

“Not to Men, they give the children outer names first.  I’ll work on it, but I’m stuck giving them endearment names.  I’ve been calling the girl Shinju, it means pearl in another language from way east and north, and the boy Rikuri, means Opal.  I’m hoping if I don’t use Khuzdul it won’t stick as an inner name.  Kili… has other ideas and started calling them by famous Dwarven crafts.  I’m working on outer names, but… slow is the mining when there are too many delvers.”

“Ideas being given?”

“So many.  And I can’t use most of them without upsetting someone else, or causing confusion.  Which is why, no we will not be naming the baby boy ‘Thorin’.  There are already two running around.  I’ve got to go, try to get some work in before the feast and not just talk babies, please?”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

“I don’t get it,” Roda said.  Nori, standing beside her nodded.

“It’s a my world thing, we give our babies godparents to guide and help them if the birth parents can’t for some cause.”

“Oh, I got that part, Lady,” Nori said.  “What escapes me is choosing me.  Her I get, but I’m not a Dwarf overburdened with morals or shame.”

“She handles guiding, you handle guarding.  With Dwalin of course, as your One he’s entitled the same, but I wanted you, specifically, to be bound to helping and protecting them.  Because your loyalty is hard to get, but absolute once gained, and if you give it to my children, I know nothing of ill intent will get within fifty meters of them without dying a slow, nasty death.  I’m counting on that flexible morality and inventive mind.”

“And I keep them from picking up too many bad habits,” Roda said in understanding.

“Exactly.”

Nori and Roda looked at each other.  “We can do it,” she said.

“Gonna have to find another name, though,” Nori pointed out.

“Valar-parents, to take my place should another incident happen?”

“It could work.  Explain why only you have ‘em.”

“Alright then.  Roda can you pass me a baby; I can tell they need feeding soon.  A breast pump, a breast pump, my kingdom for a breast pump.”  Roda looked at her oddly as she handed Rikuri to her.  “I feel like a cow anxious to be milked, and it’s not pleasant.  Pumping out the milk for storage would help.”

“Ah.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

That evening they held the first of many feasts, and the Rohirrim showed up confused but willing.  Thengel wound up sitting between Kili and Dis for very practical diplomatic reasons, and Hama was confusedly placed rather firmly beside Chris.

“This is… not what I expected when I got my orders,” he told her.

“It’s not exactly what I had planned either Hama, but we manage.”  She smiled into her mead.  “I haven’t touched a drop of alcohol in months, praise the name of whoever invented alcoholic honey.”

“You may not have planned on giving birth just then, but I was prepared for something that doesn’t seem to even exist here.”

“Really?” she asked as she speared some venison onto her plate before offering the platter to him.

“No, thank you, I follow an old Rohirric eating regimen.  Nothing that had hooves.”

“You should have told us,” she scolded, and then flagged down a server who got there so quickly Chris was suspicious of teleportation.  “Lord Hama requires poultry or fish, see that some is prepared and brought at once.”

“It’s really no trouble, I do fine at most gatherings, and it’s not common, even among my own people these days.”

“I’m a cook by craft, I love cooking and all who eat beside me will be given the best of what they require or I get testy, I don’t care if you’re on an all grapefruit diet, you will be given equally good food.  And you need more protein than you’ve put on your plate.”  She pointed to the vegetable sides he’d gathered.

“They weren’t joking when they said insulting a craft here could get me killed.”

“Oh we wouldn’t kill you, you’re on a diplomatic mission.  But take the advice seriously if you deal with Dwarrow who have no diplomatic obligation to let you live.  And I’m not even a Dwarrow.”

“Dwarrow?”

“It’s a plural for the race.  One can say Dwarves, but that has some connotations and honestly I just memorized what was supposed to be said when.  I’m originally from the Race of Men, so I let a lot go into the rote learning pile, and I get away with it because they know I had a late start.”

Hama appeared to mull that over, and then strips of golden brown meat fried in some form of light breading was laid in front of him, with a thick white sauce in a bowl beside it.

“Lake catfish,” Chris told him when he eyed it oddly.  “Either dip each bite into the sour cream or pour it over the top, depending on how much you like sour cream.”

Hama did this delicately, as almost everyone does with new foods, and Chris smiled when he cut a second bite.  A while later he looked up, and flushed red.  “I didn’t mean to ignore the conversation, Highness.”

“We went over that Hama, I’m Chris, and I’ll pass along your complements to our fish cook.  Silence is one way to know you did well.  Now you were saying you got some erroneous warnings?  I like to know what people are saying, so I can correct them.”

“None of us on this trip thought it was anything but punishment,” he admitted ruefully.  “We were told Dwarves, uh Dwarrow…”

“Dwarves is fine for you to use.”

“We were told Dwarves were greedy and vicious killers.  Begging your pardon.  I have yet to see any of that, although I’ll admit to some panic when you found my knives.”

“There is a love of fine crafts, but your average Dwarrow is no greedier than your average Man.  Some do fall prey to dragon sickness, a compulsive greed, but so do men.  There’s a tale told here of Dwarves who paid a Man to kill a dragon, money up front, so they could get their hall and rightful property back from it.  He fell prey to it, and gave them only a necklace made of rough leather and dragon teeth, claiming all their home and goods for himself.”

“You speak of Fram.”

“I do.  I know some of that treasure still rests in Rohan, but it is not important.  We learned that health and happiness of those we love is far greater than hoarded gold, and treasures are only worth what joy they bring or safety they buy.  Fram’s deeds are not, at least in this Mountain, spoken of as a tale of treachery and death.  That tale is spoken of as a warning.  That any may fall, and while there is no shame in it, should one attempt to destroy others in their fall they must be stopped.”  Her eyes drifted to Thorin.  Hama followed them.

“We also heard things, warnings about your king,” he supplied vaguely.

“I don’t suppose a great Horse Lord like yourself has ever been thrown from the saddle?” she asked in counter point.

“When I was young and foolish, there may have been a wild stallion, and a tree, and a twenty foot drop out of the tree.”

“How hard did you find standing up?  Was it painful, after such a fall?  Could you have led your friends and family into battle after that?”

“I think I see your point.”

“Then this need not be spoken of again, yes?”

“The fish really was tasty,” he segued awkwardly.

“I’ll show you the fish lakes later if you like, although, my cousin has told me the carnivorous dolphins we keep there to reduce the predator population are unnerving.”

“Carnivorous what now?”

“Dolphins.  Mammals like you and I or your horses, only they happen to live in water and look like pink and lavender fish.  They mainly eat flesh eaters, so if a predatory fish gets into the lake system, it’s unlikely it will live long.  We feed them wolf meat so that is isn’t wasted in fur processing.”

Hama nodded.  “Smart, but I’d rather go see the markets.  The king wants a report on your economy.”

“Easy, the answer is ‘good, really good’.  I’m hoping if negotiations go well, we might be allowed an embassy house in Rohan, and I plan to build it with some of my husband’s gold.”

“Did you ask _him_ about this plan?”

“Yes,” Kili answered from the other side of Chris.  “My answer was ‘I don’t think I’d notice if you did’ so she has permission.”

“Su gold es mi gold,” Chris laughed.

“I don’t recognize those words,” Thengel said.

“It’s from a language spoken really far away.  I said ‘his gold is my gold’, only I forgot how to say gold, so I left it in Common.  It was a play on a greeting used there, mi casa es su casa, or my home is your home.”

“It must be nice to be so widely traveled,” Thengel said wistfully.

“Yes, but no more of that long ranging now you have my grandbabies to raise,” Dis said.

“Is every single one of my in-laws determined to bring that up?” Chris asked the ceiling.

“Hey, my son and his betrothed get snatched from Mandos and sent on a Mission from the Maker, and I get the right to poke you about it.”

“What?!” cried every single Rohirrim at the table, proving they’d been paying attention.

“Thanks, Dis, you’re a real gem,” Chris rolled her eyes.  At this rate she was going to be more famous than Aragorn, and she had a sudden sympathy for the man with too many names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had more ideas than fit in the chapter, see my reply last chapter for some of them. If you really like one, tell me in the comments and I'll add it to the Shorts and One-Shots.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Rohirrim get whacked upside the head with culture shock.
> 
> Everyone warned them of the anger and greed of Dwarves, nobody ever prepared them for the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For tigrislilium, kinpandun, and shatteredstar

Thengel had been prepared after the birth to be stalled as one half of the diplomatic team handled new motherhood.  He was less prepared for her bluntness about it.  The honesty was refreshing after living among but not within Gondorian political circles.  The idea that the celebration was mostly triggered by the birth of a girl-child threw him enough not to ask more about her discomfort with the patron Valar of her home.  Instead, he gave orders to his men to go and join in the celebrations.  His father undoubtedly wanted a full report, and celebrations were when people, any people, let down shields that might have hidden motives.

Being invited to celebrate, Ceorl learned, was far more than being invited to a feast.  They had attendants to escort them where they wished, and in almost every tavern they passed, they were called inside by the patrons and given free ale.  He may have partaken a little too much, because at some point he found himself curled up behind a baker’s stall with a flour bag under his head and a deep desire to evacuate his gut.  The kindly baker got him a bucket and asked his permission to hold back his hair, which he gave, because according to the bells that were simply too loud, he needed to get cleaned up and in formal wear quickly and had no time to wash anything unpleasant out.  The baker gave him a flat bread for his stomach and ‘good luck’, although he didn’t follow how it was lucky.  Frankly he was having a hard time with the Dwarves he encountered not being greedy malcontents, as he’d been warned.

Galmod was old enough and wise enough not to drink to excess, but he did find himself being given small trinkets by the merchants at the edges of a large square that held dancers.  When he asked what price these things had, the answer was only ‘good luck’.  He was suspicious enough, after ending up on the bad side of a King often compared to a Dwarf for his greed, to ask about that.

“Oh,” said the wood carver who’d passed him a matte black pendant shaped as a rearing horse.  “Well, it’s _bad_ luck to take good fortune without repaying it somehow.  And since the mercy of the Maker gave us a Durin girl babe, _and_ a back-up in the same lot, we’re all trying really hard not to hex ourselves by being stingy with the good luck.”

“Ah.  You are not upset at parting with your wares so freely?”

The wood carver shrugged and grabbed a white fish from his blanket to hand to a passing Dwarf woman.  “Better to give a few trinkets away freely now than lose a babe should my own wife’s forge be kindled, with the will of the Maker.  Generosity breeds only generosity, and hoarding got us all into the mess with the dragon to start with.”

Galmod blinked.  He had never thought that he’d meet a people here that were so… practical.  It was generosity paired with basic sense as well as superstition, but the wood carver’s story was backed up by others who passed him pretty baubles for his Lady back home or a roll with meats and cheeses studded in it, like raisins in a sweet roll.  This belief seemed so easily held that he could only conclude it had been widely held for a long time.  It had been many a year since Rohan did peaceful trade with Dwarves, always the specter of Fram and his actions and the hidden hoard of legend shadowing diplomacy.  Perhaps, Galmod thought, they had forgotten that the Children of Aule were not always so, that they were not carved of stone but had hearts that beat and longed and loved, as any Man did.  But were they not also beloved by Eru, who stayed their Maker’s hand?  Could any loved by Eru be fully greedy, selfish scoundrels and murderers?  A few certainly, as there were Men who fell to dark paths, but not all, or even most.

Hama may have been the most surprised when he went out among the Dwarves of Erebor.  Upon hearing his name they lavished him with attention and presents, more than the trinkets he’d seen his fellows collect.  Strangest of all were the families, Dwarf men and women holding hands tightly asking him to lay a hand on the lady’s stomach.  When he asked, they told him he had been blessed to be the first to hold a second casting from the same mold, which took some deciphering.  He’d held the boy twin first, catching him.  Twins were more than merely rare here, they were so rare as to have scarcity make them precious and near sacred.  He obliged them in this, but he still looked for the danger, the greed, the intemperate nature he’d been warned of when the King ordered them to go.  The closest he got was seeing an absolute lake of ale and wine and whiskey being downed every time anyone brought up the babes.  Who did not have names yet, and asking seemed to put the Dwarves on edge.

The feast was also a surprise, learning that the shadow Fram left over past negotiations with Dwarves was not seen here.  That King Thorin had indeed fallen to the dragon thrall, as Fram had, but instead of remaining a raving monster that needed to be put down, he had then dragged himself not only to sanity, but a battlefield.  Hama was not sure he would have had such strength of will.  Thengel was close enough to have heard the comparison as well, and no Rider worth the name went without an embarrassing and painful story of a fall from a horse.  Thengel himself had broken a leg in his first attempt to ride his father’s stallion.

The Prince’s willingness to let his wife take freely from his personal coffers to build an Embassy House, which was not a phrase he knew, but deduced to be a place of residence for a long term ambassador, was shocking not only to Hama, but to every one of the four Rohirrim.  The Princess’s foreign words turned to play only deepened the shock.  Dwarves were known to be greedy, jealously guarding their wealth.  This was no generous superstition, the youngest Durin Prince honestly did not care about the expense of building a house in another land, and let his wife openly claim all his wealth as hers.

The shock was only deepened by the slip of Lady Dis’ words, revealing a thing none of them thought possible.

“I think I should quite enjoy an explanation, Highness,” Thengel said flatly.  It was as close to calm as he could get.”

With a sigh, Princess Christiana put down her mead.  “I tend to attract certain… attentions, it would seem.  I get taken from near death situations and put where I can do the most good.  Once, it brought me here, to meet and fall in love with Kili, and get a treaty signed with the Woodland Realm.”

“I thought the Woodland Realm and Erebor were foes?” asked a very confused Ceorl. “We were told of the Divided East.”

The Princess snorted in an undignified way.  “Oh that’s funny, I’m telling Legolas and Tauriel about that when they get here,” she said.

“Hey!  I wanted to tell them,” protested her husband.

“I’ll trade you Legolas for Sigrid,” she countered.

“No deal, Tauriel for Bard.”

“Bargain struck,” she said and clasped his hand in the promise.

“Anyway, gentlemen, there is no ‘divided east’,” she told them.  “Lady Sigrid, eldest scion of the Lord of Dale, quite enjoys coming up for hand combat lessons, and sometimes goes to the Woodland Realm for healing lessons now that it’s been de-infested of the Spawn of Ungoliant and we evicted the Nine from Dol Guldur.  Because we took part in said de-infestation and eviction, the Woodland Realm quite likes us, as anyone does when someone helps them get rid of undead squatters.  We quite like them, too, mostly.  There are some hold outs, but honestly, that grudge was around in Durin’s first lifetime.  But Prince Legolas and Captain Tauriel did save the lives of our three sons of Durin in battle, so there’s some give here that isn’t elsewhere.”

“Erebor pushed out the Nine?  Aren’t they trapped or something?”  Ceorl asked.  “Lord Saruman said-”

“ _Lord_ Saruman?” the Princess interrupted.  “If he’s forgotten he is but a servant of the Valar, he’s further gone than I thought.  A word to the wise, trust nothing and no-one who comes from him.  The Nine indeed slip their cages and set up in the fortress of Dol Guldur.  They attacked.  They regretted it.  Now they lick their wounds in Mordor like the dogs they became when they handed their wills to a powerful being.”

“Peace, Kurdinh, peace,” Prince Kili said to her.  “The Nine are not here, you are safe, all is safe.  Nori!” he called to a foppish lordling, who appeared beside them swiftly.  “Ensure the safety of the children.  Force is at your discretion.”

“Yes, Kili,” he spoke swiftly, before kneeling by his Princess.  “Chris, remember, you asked _me_ for a reason.  Slow and nasty deaths to any threat.  They are safe.”   Then he left the Hall, nodding to certain Dwarves picked at random, from a fussy old Lord with grey hair in elaborate braids to a scrawny serving boy.  The chosen ones went with him.

“Apologies for that,” the Princess said as she sucked in air as though she had been drowning.  “It hits when you least expect or wish it.  Fighting them was, not something I wish to do again.  I know that I had to, for no living man may slay them.  But,” she chuckled at Thengel.  “I am no man, and a living woman does indeed frighten them, it seems.”

“You partook of battle?” Thengel asked in shock.  “You do not have the look of one who lives by the sword.”

“Remember my words and share them where you may, Horse Lord, but those who do not live by the sword may still die upon them.  It is not needful to live by it to know how to live through it, for the safety of all.  And the hard part was mouthing off enough to scare them.  People who don’t fear them also seem to frighten them.  As does love blessed by a Valar,” she added, smiling at her husband.

“My wife is not called the Light of the North for no reason.  Her marriage proposal to me on the battlefield produced some rather shining results, I hear.”

“You hear?” asked Galmod, after the beat it took to integrate a woman proposing to the male, and on a field of battle no less.  “You must have been near, for her to propose marriage, and yet you only hear of these results.”

“We were otherwise occupied by being hopelessly smitten with a love hot enough to make visible light,” the lady in question answered after a sip of mead.  “I can attest to smoldering goblin corpses, though.  Never burn an orc’s corpse, the smell is horrifying.”

“Can say that again, Lass,” added a burly red-haired Dwarf-lord.  “I was half unconscious with pain until the orc about to kill me went up like one of Tharkun’s spark-poppers.  I wished I’d lost my nose, not my foot.”  There was a chorus of laughter.

These people all accepted this tale as truth, so Thengel did as well, if cautiously.  “Was that what you meant the, by escaping Mandos?” he asked.  The Princess looked to her husband’s mother, got some non-verbal answer and heaved a sigh.

“No.  She means when Kili, Nori, Bofur and I got blown up by terrorists and sent on another quest.  Sort of.  The whole thing was very complex.”

“Terrorists?” he tried the unfamiliar word in his mouth and found it strange.

“Those who fight not to kill or maim, or even to bring a yield from their foe, but to cause fear.  Terror.  Hence the name.  A warrior with a bow is an archer, a warrior with a sword is a fencer.  A warrior who uses only the inciting of fear, that would be a terrorist.  They rigged blast powder used in mining under a cake.  I assume there was a pressure trigger involved for the removal of the right amount of cake to kill my betrothed and myself, and few others.  What good is a scary tale to a wielder of fear if none live to tell of it?”

“That’s despicable,” Hama said instantly.  “To fight from shadows is one thing, if it is what you must do to even the field, but to fight with intent to injure a _mind_ and nothing else, so the victim can spread the fear?  Honorless.”

“It is.  Which is why when I returned with Kili and the others, Thorin had them executed.”

“The other option was throwing them at the crowd baying for their heads,” opined a tattooed guard.  “It seemed cleaner to kill them fast.  Had Lord Dori gotten them, they would have succeeded in the fear bit.”

“Agreed, he’s scary under the fussiness and the tea, and they murdered his brother,” offered another Lord.  “I would not want to be around for that.”

“Enough of dark topics, we’re celebrating,” Princess Chris declared.  “A toast to our guests!”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Many days passed, and many strange things did Thengel see and record for his report.  The Princess jumping to reach the arms of an Elf for an embrace, and the Elf Prince catching her and spinning like one might with a child for one.  A stern looking man clapping the youngest Prince on the back so hard it tipped him and laughing at a shared joke, for another.  Lady Sigrid did indeed seem very comfortable, although the conversation about grain harvests she held with the head of the Princess’ Guard was…odd, what he heard of it.  Allowing wheat sacks and straining a hip learning to thresh was peculiar at best.

Hama saw even more strange things, as at one point he’d been standing close and happened to receive a bundled baby while Chris took the crying one from her sister’s arms.  Holding the baby wasn’t that odd, but soon, he saw more children.  Not as many as in towns in Rohan, but before there had been a complete lack, now he saw small dwarflings every other day, clinging to skirts or pants as they were introduced to him.  It got more intense after sweeping a precocious lad away from Thengel’s mount moments before its teeth clicked where the child’s hand had been.  One short lesson with his own mare on the proper ways to approach a mount and a warning against going near unfamiliar horses without their riders nearby and soon he was beset by many adolescent Dwarves.  Expecting some reprimand, for the race obviously valued children highly, and were said to love jealously, he instead was given a new level of respect and even larger gifts.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A few months later and the stir had died down.  Having seen what they had, Thengel and his men approached the alliance very differently than they had planned.  Over a nice meal in their Highness’ home, cooked by the Princess, they negotiated trade agreements.  Then the Princess spoke of martial alliance.  It took them by less surprise than it could have.  When she brought up the Embassy house, Thengel had to admit he did not know the term.  She did not shame him for that lack of knowledge.

“It’s simple, gentlemen,” she said, as though discussing a fruit harvest.  “We wish to buy some land in Rohan, out of the way, perhaps near Helms Deep.  Normally a Capitol is ideal, but our people will balk at staffing a house so far from a mountain.  Dwarves, especially many of the Dwarves of Erebor, have negative memories of open sky and land.  That land, no larger than enough to hold a large house, then becomes Sovereign Territory of Erebor.  Any Ereboran citizen may seek shelter there, knowing that the laws within the house are ones they know, and thus not risk the wrath of Rohan in ignorance.  It also becomes a place a permanent ambassador may sit to provide a proxy so you need not ride so far to get an official ruling on a matter of diplomacy from our side of things.  Not that you aren’t welcome at any time, it is simply far to travel.  You may also have an Embassy here, of course, it’s only fair.”

“I’m not sure my father would like a Sovereign Territory within the borders, although I admit it seems sensible.”

“We can always renegotiate the point after his passing,” she said easily as she passed some stuffed mushrooms of a wide and meaty variety he’d never heard of.

“That may be best.  He’s not always rational about such things.”

“Some people are like that.  Let us perhaps re-discuss our treaty every decade, with visits when needed.”

All in all, the trip went well, they left with fuller saddlebags, a broader understanding of Dwarves, and a signed Treaty.  Hama left behind him a generation of dwarrowlings determined to become cavalry fighters and a Namesake.  The ceremony had happened as they left.  The boy had been named Nuli, son of Kili, and the daughter Hama, which was a more feminine name in Dwarven language. Lord Nori preened a bit when Chris had told the two that she’d chosen to name her son with a name starting in “N” because of him, and then something about numbers he didn’t catch.  But still.  He had a Namesake.  Thengel made faces about it, until the Lady they’d been assured had the gift of Prophesy handed him a stack of recipe cards for foods to combat nausea during pregnancy and the simple words “I think Theoden has a nice sound, don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chris still has nightmares about the Nine, it's not full PTSD, but she's not going to be happy about them existing in the same world as her kids.
> 
> "Threshing" is another name for a type of leg sweep. I took the grain metaphor and ran like I stole it.
> 
> Nu means The Second. Being the second twin is a big deal, almost as much as being the girl.


	27. The Chess Match Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are one chapter from the end, and Chris is getting things done. WARNING: Most of this is only filler that will become important in the next work, The Old That Is Strong.

Chris and Kili watched their children grow, and watched the network of friendship and alliance harden into a firm wall against darkness.  Kili knew what she was doing, her subtle twisting mind allowing her to make small changes that would grow in time.  He could live until the next War, the one foretold by her books.  She very likely could not.  And she would do all in her power now, while she was young and spry to ensure their children inherited the best possible world.  One without Sauron, one where the war was shorter, victory cheaper to buy.  She was maneuvering things subtly, a game of chess her opponent did not know he played yet. 

She got a settlement with Gondor to place an Embassy House in Minas Tirith and garrison in Osgiliath on the basis of a letter from Panarth strongly suggesting that she was being generous by not simply taking the throne as Queen of Gondor and Arnor, and the very logical argument she put to the new (much smarter and also forwarned) diplomat that she had personal grievance with the keepers of Minas Morgul and wished to have a guard post nearest it to aid in keeping them where they belonged.  Or at least, out of her way, she didn’t personally believe they belonged on this earth at all.  They had their chance and screwed the pooch, time to move on.

Her blunt statement and several witnesses brought her credibility, her subtle and never entirely untrue hints at relation to the Line of Elendil brought her some leverage she would never use, but it wasn’t like they knew that.  The information she gave them, and the warning to shore up and prepare for dark times bought her the garrison agreement.  The Stewards of Gondor had also not been appraised of the return of Sauron, so this information paid for quite a bit of extras in the way of support and access to forges to make and repair weapons should supply lines be cut off.  She added weapon-crafters to the garrison posting requirements and authorized the private sale of Dwarven steel to Gondor's army.   She was surprised no-one had told the kingdom that sat closest to the danger that Sauron was back in town, since Gandalf went by there rather often.  Wizards did not seem particularly good at their jobs.

She sent envoys into Harad, and to the Men of the East, beyond Rhun, and got treaties from each, with varying degrees of effort.  Harad had little to offer that Erebor needed, but she worked out an agreement for an Embassy House and a small garrison to train the locals in her hand fighting arts, the display of which she’d let them ‘accidentally’ see had gotten all the solemn Haradi chieftains interested.  Or that could have been the way Dwalin’s plate mail armor they were testing dented the sandstone floor.  She made sure they knew that any attack on Gondor would be taken as a personal insult to her, and they assured her they did not want to anger “the Sabi Rose”.  She found out that was a beautiful yet highly deadly plant from Nori.

The Men of the East were harder to convince, their own feudal lord arrangement making it near impossible to get all to agree on a treaty, because none of them wanted a treaty with someone who also had a treaty with a personal rival.  It was worse than those American movies about high schools.  Chris was suddenly very glad for her home-school education, because she’d assumed it was all comedic hyperbole, because no human being could really be that petty and dumb.  She’d been wrong.  Very very wrong.  And her grave error was costing her.

Finally, after a shouting match in a language she didn’t know woke a grumpy toddler Hama, who kicked her brother, and set him off too, Chris pulled out the big guns.  It was insulting and harsh, but she had just gotten the holy terrors to sleep.  She felt justified in her sweet vengeance.  Her quite literally sweet vengeance.  Baked goods could be weaponized in more than just ‘fruitcake to the head’ ways, and she was going to show those stubborn fuckers not to mess with the woman handing out sweets.  Gingerbread house her sweet tush, this plan was better.  And included a lower likelihood of burning to death.

She’d succeeded in extracting and making cocoa powder from the Haradi bean, and thanks be to a recorded Good Eats special on chocolate downloaded into her tablet, she made two dozen double chocolate sandwich cookies with white and caramel fudge swirl for the filling.  She sat all the feuding lords who’d been fighting down with one cookie on each plate.  They were civil enough to eat together if it might mean they got the treaty.  They knew that anyone who offended her craft was likely to be booted from the mountain and they could see the benefits of an alliance easily.  After each cookie was consumed, with sounds of pleasure from all parties, she revealed another plate of them.

“There are enough here for each of you to have one more.  Regardless of how many chose to take a second, you will _only_ get one more if you do ask for another.  The fact that the lord next to you also has a cookie, does not change that you will get a cookie by asking nicely for it.  If the lord beside you declines, you may not have his cookie.  I will eat it, instead.  If you don’t want to have a cookie because someone you dislike has one, then you may leave without a second cookie.  Is this clear?”

“Of course it is clear, you spelled it out like a wife teaching children to share toys,” scoffed an Eastern Lord.

“I just wanted to be sure, because, Lord Borthas, the problem I am facing with attempting an alliance of mutual benefit is similar to the issue of the cookies.  You all _know_ another cookie would taste as sweet as the first, be as good.  You all _know_ an alliance with Erebor would be good, or you would have left the mountain by now.  Yet you seem to fail to comprehend that I have enough cookies, enough good will, to give some to all of you, and accepting or refusing only affects _yourself_.  You do not spite your rival by refusing aid he has taken; you only deprive yourself.  All I see before me is bitter anger, which is much like drinking a goblet of poisoned wine and hoping your foes die.  It’s stupid.”

“Now see here,” started Borthas’s rival, Ulmach.  She silenced him with a sharp gesture that had he been standing instead of sitting, would have cracked his collarbone at the least.  She’d given them the same ‘accidental’ viewing of her combat skills and they all knew she could kill with no weapon.

“You don’t get to say ‘see here’ until you open the eyes you willfully close to truth.  It’s so simple that has been likened it to a children’s lesson by Lord Borthas, so unless you want to tell me Borthas’ children are smarter than your own, kindly shut the fuck up Lord Ulmach.”  He closed his mouth.  “You can clearly see my point when I use cookies to show it, but somehow this wisdom does not extend to ruling your people.  It’s a child’s lesson.  Yet, Lords, did you not all, at one time or another, tell me that you would sooner die than treat with one who would also treat with one you see as a foe?  Benefit or go without, I have ceased to care.  Behold the garden in which I grow the fucks I give about your interpersonal issues and see it is a Zen sand garden with some bare rocks, because your bickering made the land fallow and barren so I redecorated."  She let them process the analogy.  They'd already grown used to her swearing.  Sighing, she crossed her arms in a disappointed mother way.

"If you wish to treat with Erebor, have a cookie, I'll get you milk to wash it down.  If not, go home and drink your poisoned wine, I’ll shed no tears for you when the Lord of Mordor knocks down the great and mighty doors of your halls of power and drags your men to war, orphans your children and widows your wives.  And he _will_ come for you, Lords of the East, I can promise that much to you now.  His memory is long and once before your people answered the call of his master before him, he will see the weakness of your ancestors as a gateway by which he can enter your hearts and steal your freedom.  If you fall to him, he will march your people to death against the might of Erebor, as we stand bastion here, untouched, and he has as much a personal grievance with me as I do with him.  Unlike the treaty of mutual alliance I propose, he will not care if you have agreed peace with me, because he sees you not as men, but puppets, toys he can break upon my walls.  If that comes to pass, you will die, your lines ended, your people scattered like a shattered glass.  I do not wish you or your people ill, but I will fight for my home and I will win because I stand united with my neighbors as you do not.  I would prefer not to end you.  I would prefer a strong East, one that denies the darkness and rebukes Sauron’s will and words.  Our only strength that can do that is unity, of purpose and will.  You do not need to _like_ all those you treat with, you need only respect that they bring something to the table as well, and a cookie is a cookie is a cookie.”

She let the sting of being treated as unruly first graders fade into begrudging acceptance of an unpleasant truth.  They knew the history of their people better even than she did.  They knew the risks.  She knew what would happen if they did not learn to work together.  When she saw the last light of anger wink out of the eyes of the men at the table, she spoke again, softer.  “Who wants another?”  Every lord took one.  A mutual alliance pact was signed by all twelve lords and by Thorin before sunset.

The children grew much more quickly than Dwarven babes, yet not as quickly as human children.  Hama outstripped her brother by the appearance of a few years, but both aged slowly.  She and Kili had another girl child, Megis, five years after the first two, a short span by Dwarven count.  Fili was wed to Kjomii, and soon enough Hama and Nuli and Megis had a baby cousin, Thili.  The celebration for the continued line of Durin lasted the better part of three months.

Thengel returned as Thengel King, ten years after the first treaty.  Megis was a rather active toddler at the time and Chris was often called away.  The words "How by the Maker did she get _up_ there?" got said a lot. Her older children were still young enough she would have thought they were three and five, not ten.  Her own age had seemed to slow as well, she really did _not_ look 36.  She wondered sometimes if it was Mahal’s doing. 

The agreement they’d made after her first labor was expanded to add an Embassy House to be built into the side of the valley of Helms Deep.  She sent a company of twenty-five master delvers and a cadre of specially trained diplomats with direct and very specific instructions and some of the faster Raven couples to breed there.  Thengel reported Saruman's attempts to build and fortify Orthanc.  She smiled when he told her the work was not going so well, as the payment price on builders had shot up suddenly, but that's economics for you.  The ones who did work for him were neither the best nor the brightest, and most reported to Ceorl, Hama and Galmod.  Galmod's son Grima was especially careless in monitoring his workers, and had a slippery mind.  Chris smiled that Grima Wormtongue wasn't becoming a flunky, but apparently knowing he was being lied to galled him.  Ironic, but useful.  Hama taught his little Namesake how to ride a pony, while Kili, who had gotten past his over-protective phase looked on.  She was showing signs even Balin and Oin said should not be possible, but her strength and wisdom were outstripping her brother by leagues, held back only by the limits of a young and growing body.  As he watched her pull the pony into a battle charge, a warcry she could not have known on her lips he resigned himself to half the conservative council members and Lords having heart attacks when they found out Durin had been reborn.  In an Amlâkhuzd girl child.

Thili was followed by Katli, and by the next time Thengel-King came to visit, there were five baby Durins wrapping the mountain around their tiny fingers.  Hama had taken the secondary name of Reborn, since switching to Durin would be confusing for everyone and she was a _girl_ , not a boy, and Durin was a _boy_ name.  She still looked older than her brother, yet younger than any twenty-year old human would be.  Hama the Reborn looked to be a very mature ten, eleven at the outmost, and her brother might be a skinny seven, by Chris’s estimate, and Megis was a miniature Dis, appearing five, tops.  Then again, Chris herself had settled comfortably into the appearance of one who might be a year or two shy of thirty or a bit beyond forty-six, that appearance of, not agelessness, but age irrelevance.  She chalked it up to Valar intervention and was grateful her joints were sound and her body in good health.  She could still toss the largest guardsmen across the training room, and chase her children down when they misbehaved.  That was what mattered, not the thin, barely there lines of grey in her copper hair, or the fine network of laughter and worry lines tracing her skin with a feather touch.

One final piece lay in her plan that she had not activated.  So, gathering an entourage, she and Kili took their children to Imladris in October of the 2965th year of the Third Age.


	28. Oh SNAP (Seriously Not A Plan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the end, folks, but it's also the beginning. WARNING: THIS CHAPTER ENDS IN A CLIFFHANGER. Before you get the pitchforks out, I will post the first chapter of the next work tomorrow, so you can choose to wait so as not to be hangered.
> 
> Summary: A meeting with Gilraen does not end as planned, and Chris now has even more work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all, each and every person who stood by this work. It was particularly hard to finish, because I started this series with my Dad as a constant bulwark of support and reeeeaaally random Tolkien trivia. If you read the end notes, you'll know I lost him mid-way into this work. He got me into the stories, helped me grow in the fandom, and without the unwavering support of good friends, many who are probably now reading these words, I could not have stayed here. We all know a day may come when the courage of men fails, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, but it was not this day or any since my dad died. Thank you.

Their arrival was much warmer this time, despite the autumn crispness and the fact last time Kili had stood here, it had been June.  This time an older woman with dark hair sprinkled with strands of white and sad, defeated eyes greeted them warmly.

“I am Gilraen, of the Dunedain and of Elrond’s house, and I bid you welcome.”

“I am Christiana, of Erebor and for both my people and myself I accept your welcome with gratitude.”

Gilraen waved for attendants to escort the party of Dwarrow to their rooms, and then fell in step beside Chris.

“I beg a private word,” she said quietly.

“No need to beg,” Chris told her.  Kili had taken her bags when she stepped forward to answer the greeting.  They turned off the main hall.

“I have heard my cousin has a gift of foresight,” Gilraen said.

“I have heard it said I do as well, but those with power must use it with caution,” Chris countered, “and should such a gift lie with me, I should use it as one uses fire, in small amounts or with great caution, for such knowings can burn you.”

“You speak as cautiously as an Elf, saying both yes and no.”

“I was taught by my own parents that it is sometimes better to neither confirm nor deny.”  Chris smiled.  “But I have looked forward to meeting you.  If I weren’t so fertile, this day would have come sooner.”

“And yet, for all the world, you would not give them up.”

“No.  I am a mother; it would take the will of a Valar to take me from them.  In truth that is what I fear most.  Twice before I have been removed from my home to go do or be somewhere I needed to, because the Valar _like_ me,” she said with a grimace.

“That is indeed a troubling fate.”

“Troubling,” Chris snorted.  “Bloody inconvenient, is what it is.  And I’ve had time now, to settle down, to try to lay down the foundations that my children will build a better future on.  But I only fear more.”

“You must have hope, cousin.  Eru Ilúvatar would not give you a burden you could not bear,” she said as they passed the statue with shattered Narsil.  Gilraen did her best not to look at it or the mural.  Chris chose to stop.

“You’re one to talk, you gave hope to the Dunedain, but did you hold any for yourself?”

Gilraen gaped.  “I know not what you mean.”

“I mean when you last spoke to your son, had he yet met Arwen?  Did you not chastise him, for much the same reasons your father chastised Arathorn?  He is Estel, Hope made flesh, and you fear that he shall leave his love a widow?  You live with them, but you do not understand them.  Once an Elf loves, it is like a Dwarf’s love.  Only death may end it, and most often not for long, as quickly after the first spouse dies, so does the second.  She shall not last more than a year beyond his passing.”

“You do indeed have foresight.”

“I have _insight_.  I too am mortal, and wed to one who should out-live me by three times.  He and I have discussed this.  His shattering shall come swiftly upon my death, unless he has reason still to cling to life.  A dear friend is Elven, and upon his mother’s sailing, his father became cold and isolated, held to life only by obligation.  Take the crown from his brow, and I promise you, Mighty Thranduil, freed from the weight of the name Elvenking, shall hike up his ever so regal robes and _sprint_ to the Grey Havens.”

“And how did you know of my son’s… infatuation?”

“I’m pretty sure anyone with even a tiny smidge of the Sight and common sense knows how deeply he loves her, and how strongly the feeling is returned, and I have more than a smidge of common sense.”

“Does it end well?” Gilraen asked desperately.

“I used my gift to alter things, so I do not know for certain.  I do know all changes I made were to smooth his path, and the path of those who will walk beside him in troubled times.  But know that if all I laid in place serves its purpose, soon shall come the days of the King, and blessed will they be.”

“That has many ifs and maybes attatched,” Gilraen said with a scowl.

“You can have an uncertain answer, or a cryptic one.  I do a very good cryptic riddle.”

“You have given me uncertainty, I would hear your cryptic words.”

“From the ashes a fire shall be woken, a light from the shadows shall spring.” Chris recited.  Then with a pointed look at Narsil, drawing Gilraen’s eyes, she continued.  “Renewed shall be blade that was broken, and the crownless again shall be king.”  With a shrug, Chris looked at Gilraen.  “I have worked the length of my children’s lives to make this easier.  I will work the remainder of mine.  I will be old and grey and weak, and I will still be working to make the Enemy’s life harder, and your son’s easier, I will stab orcs with my knitting needles and beat trolls with my cane and yell at Nazgul to "get off my lawn, ya damn kids", as though they were unruly neighbor brats.  I promise you that.  If I can promise it, you who should live longer than I, with the strength of your blood, should at least make it to his coronation.”

“He will be king?”

“A just and fair one, if all goes according to plan.”

“This eases my heart from fear, thank you.  Tomorrow we will have other guests arriving, and I would ask that you greet them before they start their business here.  There are worries, things Elrond will not speak of, though his silences tell volumes of things that concern me.  Some confirmation of their truth or falsehood should help.”

“I would be pleased to, Gilraen.  Just recall my words on the matter of hope, and do not leave your son to think you cold and bitter.  He will need all the support that may be marshalled if he is to do as he must, and the potency of a mother’s faith can be a strong ally.”

“I will put thought to this.  Now rest and be at ease, lest the last homely house be seen wanting.”

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The next day, Hama insisted on several things before she would dress for breakfast.  Her mother was used to such stubbornness from Nuli and Megis, but Hama had never used her status as first born or as Durin Reborn to make unnecessary demands.  Kili quietly let Chris know he believed their blessed, special child was indeed aware of more than they.  So Chris sighed, packed the tablet, solar charger, iPod and speakers into a leather pouch she could wear under her skirt and reach through a slit, and wore her emergency weapons, the easily hidden or disguised ones.  She let Hama boss her into a wrap-skirt gown, with sturdy breeches under the soft blue wool of the skirt.  She drew the line at taking a sword to greet guests at Imladris, but Hama decided that she could work with that.  She did insist that both her parents go, and that Kili dress as battle ready as her mother.  Then she took Nori’s hand and nodded to her parents.

“It is _so_ hard to raise a reincarnated ancestor,” Kili groused.

“Wait until puberty hits.  That’s gonna be even _more_ fun,” Chris said.  Kili only groaned.

“I wonder who exactly we’re meeting,” he mused, trying to get his mind off the day he would need to give his children the same fascinating yet horrifying talk his mother and Thorin had given Fili and himself.

“Someone dangerous to us, or to others, Hama loaded us for bear, not rabbit.  She’s sensible about that, even if I don’t always know where she’s gotten the intel.”

“Why would Elrond invite an enemy?”  Kili wondered.

“Sauron likes hidden pawns and double agents,” Chris said, pulling pieces together in her mind, mapping timelines and alliances in her head.  “Elrond might still think the foe a friend.”

“Isn’t he supposed to be incredibly wise?  What’s the point of all that vast Elvish wisdom if he can’t tell a false friend from true?” Kili groused.

“He might suspect it.  Why else would Gilraen ask for a second person with the Sight to have a look?  If they’ve been friends long enough, he might know in his head of the danger, but allow his heart to rule his choice.  Or he might fear the power that the friend-foe can wield.”

“You think you know who it is,” Kili said simply.

“We’ll know if I’m right soon enough,” she replied.  “Once more into the breech, my Prince?”

“Once more.”

They stepped into a courtyard she recognized at once.  The Council of Elrond would be held here.  For now, the benches were only a pleasant place to sit, not a solemn congress of the Free Peoples.  The pedestal held only a flowerpot that spilled flowers and vines, even this late in the year.  Elrond entered beside an old man in a white robe.

“ _You_ …” hissed Saruman.  Kili moved to her back and to one side in an archer’s stance to guard her flank, throwing knife in his hand.

“Dipping into the Palantir already, Curumo?” Chris asked as if inquiring as to the cream and sugar he liked in tea.  Saruman hissed much like a cat.  “Missed Mairon so much?  It’s a bit early on the schedule, but I guess I don’t blame you for getting homesick, and he was from your alma mater, yes?  After all, Oromë’s messengers stay together.  Please note the present tense.  Morinehtar and Rómestámo recently escaped the traps laid for them, magic traps, magic similar to your own, if their letters are accurate.  Why did you think you could trap the chosen of the Hunter?  They know traps, and they know friend from foe.”

“Are you implying what I think you are, Princess?”  Elrond asked.

“Oh, I imply nothing.  I state,” she said, removing a hair comb and flipping the ornamental knuckle guards off the rings that turned it into a punching tiger’s claw.  Slipping it on her hand, she looked Saruman in the eye, and with years of practice, still managed to look down at someone a foot and a half taller.  “I state that his lust for the One Ring has brought him ruin, even though he sees it not, yet.  I state that the only way to have seen me playing my shadow chess game and therefore speak with such venom is to use a Palantir.  I state that the other Maiar with a Palantir was also once of Aule’s order, and now he’s out of Daddy’s house he has a sweet little bachelor pad near a volcano.  I state that allies of freedom have aided me in hindering his aims, and taken harm from it, but yet more allies do I have.  I _state_ ,” she emphasized with the click-lock sound of her second hair comb claws, “that he is no longer Saruman the White.  He lost that name and the rights and respect inherent in it when he turned to the dark side and went Vader to Sauron’s Palpatine.  And so I also state, in the words of my people, come at me, _bro_.”

“Is this true, Curunír?” asked a soft male voice.  “Have you betrayed us?”

“Estel, let this stay among your elders,” Elrond commanded.  “But you must answer such accusations, old friend.”

“You have no proof,” Saruman sneered.

“I have two wizards who beg to differ, I have Chieftains of Harad who say they have already been approached, as well as Easterling Lords.  I have allies dead or fled from Orcs bearing a white hand upon them.  Too many lives have you already destroyed.  Shut up and fight me, Helen.”

“You speak the nonsense of a madwoman, partaken of too many Dwarven pleasure drugs no doubt.”

“I speak the language of my birth land.  I’d ask to speak to your manager, but I’m sure He’s had more recent contact with me than you.  If you dislike my truths, or my way of saying them, take it up with Aule.  If you think Daddy dear will side with you over the woman he has personally transported across worlds thrice now, saved the life and love of thrice now, someone’s mind is addled, and it isn’t me.  I have burnt those Casper knockoffs that your master calls muscle for Him, I stood on frost and taunted them until they fled.  I played His shadow games for Him, ensuring His creations would stand.”  Dropping her voice low and calm, she asked him gently, “do you really think you scare me?”

“ ** _ENOUGH_**!!!” he thundered, his staff pointed at her.  “Too long a thorn in my foot, halting me before I began.  Cutting me off, destroying my holds on men.  I shall be glad to watch you die.”

“Loose your power and lose an eye, Wizard,” Gilraen said from behind Chris.  A quick glance back she saw Gilraen with a bow, arrow nocked, and a young Aragorn behind her.

“Think you that you can trap me?  Greatest of all Istari? Hah,” he scoffed and unleashed a torrent of force, Kili and Chris hit the pedestal with a crack and the world went white.

Chris groaned and stood.  And saw the tipped pillar and the deadly trinket of a ring on the floor.  Looking around she saw faces she knew, some of whom had not been there in book or movie, this council held representatives of Harad, and the East.

“Kili,” she said to her prone husband.

“Five more minutes, Megris,” he mumbled.

“You don’t have that kind of time.  Because we aren’t in 2965 anymore.”

“WHAT???”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, put down the pitch forks and blow out the torches guys, the next installment goes up tomorrow.
> 
> I'll even give you a teaser, *places teaser gently on the ground before fleeing*
> 
>  
> 
> “Sorry, I was planning on perforating the satanic Santa. He was a faster draw than expected.”


End file.
